The Shadow on the Scene
by jsq
Summary: We tend to focus on the light, refusing to acknowledge that truth is most often revealed in the shadows. A combination of darkness and fluff, angst and romance. Set at the end of season 5, though it takes a wildly different path from the finale.
1. Interlude: On Getting Away With It

**Disclaimer: Not mine, no profits for me. Also, while I'm disclaiming, over the course of this story I will at one point steal a scene from an episode of Criminal Minds. It won't be for a while, but I don't own that show either.**

**Spoilers: Non-specific spoilers through the end of season 5. I've been holding out on writing this one, because there are some points on which I would like to stick to cannon, but they haven't happened on the show yet, so I don't know what cannon will be. We will all just have to accept that I am going to get a few things wrong, because I'm tired of waiting for the show to catch up to my imagination. My apologies.**

Interlude: On Getting Away With It.

It's exhilarating. There's no other way to describe it. You have no idea, I'm sure you don't. What are the chances that a kindred spirit would be reading this? There aren't that many of us..._although, _there are probably more of us than you imagine. More of us than the knowledge of whom would allow you to walk as blithely through the world as I'm sure you do. It's amusing, really, the way people cling to the illusion of security- to their deadbolts and chain locks, their alarm systems and puppy dogs, their stranger danger and self-defense courses. Actually, that's not so amusing- more pathetic, really. No, what's amusing is that despite their precautions _(woefully inadequate, by the way)_, no one believes that it could ever happen to them. The first emotion to flash across their faces? It's not fear. It's not panic. It's surprise. Every. Time. People are so lamentably predictable, even in death...especially in death. You might think that when faced with a death so outside the normal _(you hope, you pray)_ human experience, one would exhibit a uniqueness, a smidgen of singularity. Well, you would be wrong. I've seen all kinds- women, children, men _(though my preference is for women, and my current situation demands that I focus mainly on those in the shadows, those who won't be missed. You know the kind.)_- enough to make me confident in my pronouncement that none of you should consider yourselves extraordinary. Now, that's not to say that the sameness of it all takes away from exquisiteness of the act. The moment they realize that there will be no hero on his white horse, no last minute save by a policeman with a heart of gold, when they finally accept that real life is not one of those crime shows they use to sedate themselves after a day at the office where the crack investigative team always gets their target just in the nick of time..._that moment_, there's nothing like it. The feeling is....

But I digress. That's an exposition for another time. No, for now, I'm focusing on the exhilaration of _escape._ There are several things I _know_, and I would be happy to share them with you. So far, you've learned that people are predictable. Here's something else: People are stupid. When I first gave in to my true nature, I lived in fear, waiting for the moment when I would be discovered. That moment never came, and I no longer live in fear. So I add to the list of things I _know_ the fact that I am more intelligent than most. Now, I'm sure you won't want to believe that. It's those crime shows again, they've convinced you that the 'good guys' always win in the end, that the 'bad guys' always make mistakes. I'm going to give you a piece of advice here- stop watching the crime shows. Do you have any idea what the actual solve rate is for murder? I do, and trust me, you wouldn't like those numbers. Still, each and every time it's confirmed that there is no karma, that justice is merely an illusion we've created to make the meaninglessness of this existence bearable, well...it's exhilarating.

God, this last time. It was, well, it was orgasmic. It was the challenge. Most of the time, I'm forced to stay within the margins, but this was different. To be able to prolong, to be able to watch...there are no words. Of course, there were drawbacks. People like me, we tend to work alone, but this time the opportunity was too perfect to ignore. She wouldn't have been my first choice as a partner. She's your everyday sociopath, and a greedy one at that. It's the money that matters to her, and she's willing to sacrifice _that moment_ for a dollar _(well, a million of them, anyway)_. I must give credit where it's due, her methods were certainly creative, but there was no poetry to her work. I could have helped her with that, but the key to my success _(and I have known a great deal of success)_ is staying within my boundaries. It was her party, I just suggested a few of the guests...and provided the transportation.

Oh, don't look so horrified. It's not as if anyone died. Well, people did die, but, ironically, not once I became involved. In the interest of full disclosure, I will admit that this wasn't my preference, but you don't always get what you want out of someone else's party. Besides, I learned something important from this experience- almost as magical as _that moment_ is watching the people who have foolishly chosen to take on the role of 'loved ones' as they come to terms with the possibility of _that moment_. There is also the undeniable pleasure of _taking one's time_. It's a luxury I have rarely been afforded in the past, but will try to cultivate in the future.

I'm getting off track again, aren't I? I hope you will forgive my self-indulgence. Yes, _escape._ It wasn't guaranteed this time. We were dealing with smart people. The smartest people you know. The smartest of all the stupid people, the kind of people who regularly have the phrase 'world renowned' added to their title. You can understand, then, if I take time to bask in the glow of this particular escape. 'World renowned', and they couldn't even put together the basic fact of my existence. They got her, and they let that be enough. Even the smartest people sometimes refuse to look too closely at that which they don't want to see. You might think that I would fall victim to a scorned partner; again, you would be wrong. I scare her. Do you know how difficult it is to scare a sociopath? But I do, I scare her. Her fear has purchased my escape.

So, here I am. Her trial has ended, her case is closed, and I am left alone to enjoy my exhilaration. That's not to say I have no regrets. People like me tend to want to finish what we've started. It's what sets me apart from her. She was willing to walk away for a met ransom demand. I've never been good at walking away. I had been hoping to tie up loose ends rather quickly, but my current situation doesn't allow it. Of course, it doesn't help that my loose ends are planning themselves to escape. Geographic mobility is another luxury I can ill afford. What I do have is time. Time, and infinite patience. They'll be back, and I'll be waiting.

**TBC**

**A/N: I have this one completely outlined, so for those of you who like to know your destination before you commit to the ride, this will probably take somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty chapters. We'll get to B&B in the next one.**


	2. On Knowing When to Run

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews and alerts! By the way, does anyone know what's going on with this site and section breaks? For some reason, when I uploaded this story, the ___ I use didn't show up. I hate to think I'm going to have to go back through my other stories and put them in, but the stories won't make sense to new readers without the appropriate breaks. Okay, enough of my own angst....**

Chapter 1: On Knowing When to Run.

" You will be expected to exercise the utmost care in the retrieval of these remains, understood?"

Brennan managed to give the shiny new Supervisory Agent a look that conveyed both disgust and condescension before snapping on her gloves and turning to head toward the cordoned-off fall-out zone. The hand that reached out and grabbed her arm took her by surprise.

"Ma'am, this is serious. Do you have any idea who we're talking about here?"

Eyes flashing with indignation, she raised herself up to full height and replied, "I'm very aware of who we're talking about. The son of a Saudi diplomat who foolishly decided to assert his alpha-male status by taking his date for a ride in his single-engine Cessna during the worst the lightening storm in decades. What I fail to see, however, is why this should have any impact on how I do my job."

She practically snarled this last line, and Booth knew that if he didn't intervene now, Bones would soon be facing charges for assaulting a federal agent. He quickly stepped between the agent and the anthropologist, breaking the man's grip on his partner's arm before his partner got it into her head that she should be the one doing all the breaking. "Agent Roth, I'd like you to meet my par-," he stumbled over the words, realizing with a pang that it wasn't true anymore, not really, "I'd like you to meet Dr. Temperance Brennan. The _world-renowned forensic anthropologist." _He gave the agent a pointed look. "This isn't exactly her first rodeo."

Brennan looked at Booth in bewilderment. "That is inaccurate. Booth, I have _never_ attended a rodeo."

Booth rolled his eyes and laughed sardonically. _Will this be something I miss, or one of those things it will be a relief to get away from? _He hoped it was the latter, but knew it was the former. He gave his part-...Bones, a wistful glance before returning his attention to Roth. "The point is, maybe you should just thank Dr. Brennan for agreeing to lend us her considerable expertise a mere six hours before she is scheduled to depart for Indonesia to participate in a _very prestigious_ anthropological dig, and let her get on with her work?" The part about the dig was superfluous, but Booth couldn't help himself. He hated when someone tried to underestimate her.

For the briefest moment Agent Roth appeared duly chastised, but then he scoffed and walked away. Meanwhile, Bones gave Booth a look that let him know that she was perfectly capable of fighting her own battles, thank-you-very-much. Before he could think of a witty remark, she was dipping under the yellow crime scene tape, eyes pealed for bone fragments. And Booth? Well, he was standing alone. _Of course._

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He had been relieved when he had gotten the call at 3:30 AM. They knew it was his last day before his leave of absence, but how would he feel about supervising the investigation into a plane crash that had killed a diplomat's son? It was an easy assignment, the FAA had all but determined that the weather had caused the explosion that sent pieces of the tiny plane raining down over the industrial neighborhood. He was happy to take it. He had been relieved, and he hated himself for it.

One last breakfast at the diner, one last trip to the airport- it had all sounded like a good idea the night before at The Founding Fathers. They were the only remaining guests at their own going-away party. There, still under the spell of alcohol and a night spent with friends that made up their makeshift family, they knew. They knew that if this was going to be their last night together, there would be no saying goodbye. Sure, there was the pretense of all of this being temporary, a year out of time. It's what they told everyone, that they would be back in a year, and everything would return to normal. They would be Booth and Bones, the perfect team. It's what they told themselves. It's what allowed them to make their plans, plans that didn't involve the other. But there, in their favorite booth, in their favorite bar, they knew it was a lie; there is no such thing as a year out of time. It was absolutely necessary, then, that they make plans to see each other the next day. Otherwise, how could they ever leave that bar? How could they ever leave _them_ behind?

By the time he made it back to his apartment, the spell had worn off. Seeing her the next day, being the one to drive her to the airport, it no longer felt like the only _right_ way to end this. It felt foolish, heartbreaking. They had managed to leave the bar, and wasn't it better to leave _them_ that way? No final goodbye, no big production. No need to face what they were doing until it was done. They could go on pretending that things would someday return to their own special version of normal. Maybe catching up to their own reality could wait until they were somewhere in the middle of it, and maybe it wouldn't hurt so much in the middle. It's beginnings and endings that are painful, right? Middles are comfortable. Maybe. Hopefully.

So, he accepted this unexpected assignment with relief. It was out of his hands, duty called. When they asked him if he could bring her along, he reminded them that she was leaving. When they wanted him to check, just in case- they needed the best- he agreed. What was the harm? It wasn't as though she would say yes. Who agrees to spend their last few hours before moving off to the other side of the world searching for bone bits?

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Of course she said yes when he called. He had sounded surprised and had mumbled something about not wanting to impose and last minute packing. But really, how could he have been surprised? The explosion would have broken the remains into hundreds of pieces. It would take a highly skilled eye to locate them all. She knew the victims were Muslim and that Islam required that as much of the body as possible be buried together. She couldn't leave something so important to the FBI techs. Sure, they were competent, but she was the best. As for last minute packing, well, she wouldn't even dignify that with a response. Temperance Brennan left nothing to the last minute, nothing to chance.

Besides, if the crash site was where he was going to be, then it was where she was going to be. They hadn't said goodbye last night, not the kind of goodbye you said to the most important person in your life before you parted ways for a year. It hadn't been necessary, because they were going to have breakfast; he was going to take her to the airport. It was okay that she had skipped breakfast and that she was going to have to take a cab to the airport, as long as she still got to spend those last few hours with him. There was another thing Temperance Brennan didn't do, and that was leave without saying goodbye. She knew what it was like to abruptly find yourself at the end, when you had believed you were still in the middle. She knew what it was like to be left without a proper goodbye. She liked her endings unambiguous.

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"Hey Bones, how's it comin'?"

She started at the sound of his voice. She had been consumed by her search for remains, and she had missed his approach. "I've been successful in locating the limbs and both skulls. I've also found many of the smaller pieces, but there's probably more here than I will have time to locate before I have to leave for the airport. I've put in a call to Mr. Edison, and he should be able to continue the search in my absence. He's good. He'll return them to their families."

"I know, Bones," he answered.

Though deciphering tone of voice had never been a talent she possessed, she could hear the sadness in his innocuous words. She searched his face, wondering, not for the first time, if she was doing the right thing. Nothing had been right since that evening in Sweets' office. Brennan rarely indulged in magical thinking, but if she could have just one wish, it would be that she could have that day back. Screw professional courtesy. She would have patted Sweets on the head and let him publish his book, mistakes and all. She had done her best to ensure the center held, but she was no longer certain Booth wanted it to. He had told her they could work together, and he never broke a promise, but everything had changed. Everything was so sad. It wasn't working. He was trying to move on, and she was stopping him. She was hurting him, which was exactly what she had been trying to avoid when she told him no. She would do anything to help him, and leaving was all she could think to do.

It had been Heather Taffet's trial that made everything clear. It hadn't been easy, facing that woman in court. Brennan tried to find sanctuary in facts, in the truth, but she hadn't been able to keep her memories at bay. Testifying, watching Booth and Hodgins testify, it brought everything back. Her secret nightmares had returned, and every night she lost Booth- over, and over again. Upon waking, she was shaken to the core; not by her nightmares, but by the fact that the sense of loss they caused wasn't so different than that she had experienced every day since the night she said no. It was time to face the truth: he had gambled, and she had lost. The game was rigged, and she had never stood a chance at winning. It made it easier to say yes to Indonesia. In the midst of doing _all the wrong things_, it was nice to finally be able to do something right.

She was slowly becoming aware of the fact that she had been staring at him for entirely too long, when a movement in her peripheral vision caused her to turn away sharply.

His eyes instinctively followed hers. "What? Did you see something?"

She peered off in the direction of the movement, but there was nothing. "No. I thought I did, and earlier it felt like maybe someone was watching me, but...." She searched the perimeter of the scene. "I guess it was nothing."

"Maybe it was just a shadow," he shrugged.

"Yes. Maybe." She held his gaze, not ready to let him go. "Is Parker still upset that you'll be spending the year at Fort Benning?" She had been shocked when he had announced his own plans to take the year off. It hadn't surprised her that the Rangers had wanted him to serve as a training instructor, but she never would have believed that he would agree. Leave D.C., leave the FBI, leave Parker? Not Booth. Never. It was just one more example of how far off its axis her world had shifted.

"He's not thrilled. I mean, I'll still see him just as much, you know? I'll alternate between driving up to D.C. on the weekends and flying him down to Georgia. I think, once we're into it, he'll be okay." Booth was well aware of the fact that it sounded like he was desperately trying to convince himself it was true. He looked at the woman in front of him, the woman who had been his best friend for the past five years, and he offered her one last piece of himself, "I'm just...I guess...I guess I'm just afraid that no matter how things work out, the part he'll always remember is that I left. He wanted me to stay, and I left."

Brennan knew how hard this was for him. She may not understand them, but in order for Booth to even consider leaving, he must have some very good reasons. "You're a good father, Booth. Parker knows it. That's what he'll remember." She reached out and squeezed his hand, the most physical contact they'd had since he began the business of moving on. She smiled a smile that she she hope conveyed her absolute belief in him and his love for his son.

It was the smile that almost made him break. He hadn't seen it in longer than he cared to remember. Having her standing there in front of him, telling him that leaving didn't make him a bad father _(even though, who knew better than him just how much being left had cost her?)_, smiling a smile that told him nothing could ever diminish him in her eyes, it was almost enough to make him want to take another gamble. It was almost enough to make him forget how much it hurt to lose. Almost.

Brennan knew it was time. She needed to go home and change, get ready to go, but once again, she found herself unwilling to walk away. She needed to think of something else to say, something to stop this conversation from reaching its natural conclusion, _goodbye_.... "What about Catherine?," she blurted.

Booth sighed and removed his hand from hers. "Oh, well, you know. I mean, she's not too pleased either, but it's not like we're in a relationship. We've been out a few times, but it's casual. We'll just see where it goes. Maybe the long-distance thing could work for us."

"That's highly unlikely, Booth. Statistically, long-distance relationships rarely survive, especially without an explicit commitment from both parties. Besides, I doubt that Catherine believes the two of you to be as casual as you claim. She gave you the tie, and as I told you before, a gift signifies a social contract-"

"Yes, professor, I remember. God, why does everything have to turn into a goddamned anthropology lecture with you? That is one thing I'm sure as hell not going to miss." He watched her eyes widen as though he had just punched her in the gut. She took a step back, and her eyes watered. _Way to go, jackass._ "Bones, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I haven't slept, and things have been so wonky...," he smiled. "Come on Bones, aren't you going to ask me what that means?"

In spite of herself, she responded to the familiar gentleness of his teasing. With a small smile of her own, she replied, "I don't have to ask. I ascertained your meaning through context."

He laughed, "Wow, Bones, you've really changed." Realizing immediately that this line of conversation could take them somewhere dangerous, he veered back into safer territory, "What about Hacker?"

She shrugged dismissively, "Andrew and I agreed that while we found each other's company pleasant, there was really nothing more than friendship between us. We had a goodbye coffee, and I doubt we'll see each other more than occasionally upon my retur-," She stopped abruptly. This time she was positive she had seen movement, a flash of dark skin, at the end of the drainage ditch. WIthout finishing her thought, she took off toward the source of the movement. Booth was confused, but behind her all the way.

**TBC**


	3. Little Girl Lost

**A/N: So, my city is flooded. We're officially in a state of emergency. I've never seen anything quite like this. Luckily, my street is fine. but it's crazy here. Anyway, they pretty much shut everything down, including my office, which meant I had time to write this update. I hope you enjoy. By the way, I know it might seem like a bunch of disparate elements are being thrown together in this story, but trust me. The whole thing has been plotted in advance. It will all come together.**

Chapter 2: Little Girl Lost.

"Bones! Hey, Bones! Wait up!"

Brennan could hear him behind her, ordering her to wait for him, but she refused to listen. She needed to stay focused on the location where she had seen the flash of skin. This area was supposed to have been cleared, no one should have been able to reach that drainage ditch. Suddenly, she realized what she had been noticing in her peripheral vision all morning, and the shock stopped her in her tracks.

"What the hell, Bones!" Booth had caught up to her, and he was obviously annoyed that she had ignored him earlier. "What do I always tell you? Gun goes first! Gun goes first, Bones. I hope to God you'll exercise more common sense in Indonesia. You know I'm not going to be there to...." It finally registered what she was staring at, and Booth sprung into action.

"I need an ambulance at the entrance to the drainage ditch near the crash site," he barked into his radio. He began cautiously approaching the small figure curled up at the end of the ditch.

It was a little girl. She had been dressed with apparently no regard for the weather, as she was wearing a dirty Christmas sweater, a knit skirt and flip flops. One of her eyes was swollen shut with what appeared to be an infection, and her legs were covered in pock marks that looked suspiciously like cigarette burns. Booth tried to control the rage he felt building in his chest as he crouched down in front of her.

"Hey, sweetie. It's okay. I'm a policeman," He showed her his badge. "I'm going to help you, okay. Can you tell me your name? Where are your mom and dad?"

The little girl silently gazed back at him with her one good eye. She looked terrified as she tried to flatten herself against the edge of the ditch, clutching a worn pink backpack to her chest.

"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to get you some help."

The little girl took him by surprise as she shot past him and flung herself into Brennan's arms. He'd been focused on the child, and he hadn't heard her approach. Booth met her wide-eyed gaze over the little girl's head, and signaled that she should see if the girl would open up to her.

Brennan knelt down and held the girl at arm's length, while the child continued to clutch at her desperately. "It's okay," she said, awkwardly patting the little girl's head. "You're going to be fine. We can help you. My name is Temperance, and I'm a scientist. This," she said, gesturing to Booth, "is my partner, Agent Booth. We help people, that's what we do. We're going to help you, okay. Can you tell me your name?"

The little girl didn't answer, choosing instead to throw her arms back around Brennan's neck and cling to her as though her life depended on it. Brennan looked helplessly back at Booth, unsure of what to do. Off to the side, she noticed the discarded backpack, a name printed on the side in childish handwriting. She caught Booth's eye and nodded to the bag.

"Angie?," she asked. "Is your name Angie?"

The little girl's only response was burrow her face into the crook of Brennan's neck and increase the strength of her embrace. Brennan stood, picking Angie up with her.

"It's okay Angie," she whispered. "I've got you. You don't have to talk if you don't want to. I've got you." She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to Booth, who was obviously trying to communicate with her while largely preventing Angie from overhearing.

"I'm putting a call into the Bureau to see if they have any missing persons' reports for someone fitting Angie's description. We'll see if we can figure out who she is from there," he told her in a low voice.

"That's good. From her bone structure, I would normally estimate her to be about four-years-old. The fact, though, that she has a backpack makes me think she must be school-aged. Also, she must have been out here since at least yesterday. This area has been barricaded since the crash. Someone would have noticed a child wandering around."

Booth nodded and picked up his cell phone. "This Agent Booth. Yes, I would like to run missing persons' reports for African-American females between the ages of four and...."

Brennan watched for a moment as he walked away, patting the back of the little girl in her arms. Providing comfort, especially to children, was another one of those things that just seemed beyond her abilities. She was unsure of what to say, especially since Angie didn't seem interested in talking, so she just stood there, letting the little girl hold on tightly.

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Brennan could see both Booth and an ambulance making their way back over to where she and Angie stood. Booth reached her first. He caught her gaze and shook his head, indicating that there had been no missing persons report. From the set of his jaw, she could tell that he had already taken in the girl's condition and, like her, wasn't really surprised by the lack of report. This was not a child who was loved. This was not a child who was watched over. Brennan felt a lump form in her throat, and she instinctively tightened her hold on the small form in her arms as she followed Booth to meet the ambulance.

"Angie," she said softly, "these women are paramedics. They're going to take you to the hospital so a doctor can fix your eye and make sure you're okay. They'll take really good care of you. We're just going to lay you down on this bed so that they can drive you to the hospital, alright?"

Angie didn't make a sound, but she began to shake violently and made no move to loosen her grip on Brennan. The paramedics began prying the little girl's fingers from the anthropologist, speaking to her in soothing tones. Angie continued to grip at the collar of Brennan's jumpsuit as they put her on the stretcher. Wordlessly, she searched Brennan's face.

_She's screaming with her eyes. She's begging me not to leave her_. Brennan turned to the paramedics. "Is it okay if I ride with her?"

The closest paramedic nodded gratefully. "That would be ideal. It looks like she's pretty traumatized, and she seems to have latched on to you. It would help us out if you'd ride with us."

"Wait, Bones," Booth interrupted. "Don't you have a flight to catch in three and a half hours? It's okay, I'll go with her."

Brennan knew he was right. She was already cutting it close, and she still needed to stop by her house and grab her bags. She should go, let Booth and the paramedics handle it, but...the little girls' eyes. They were still begging her, and there was something so familiar in that look. She just couldn't bring herself to let her down. _There's still time. I'll just make sure she gets checked-in to the hospital._

"I'll just ride with her to the hospital, Booth. I'm sure she'll feel safer once we're there. I'm an experienced traveller, so I'll be able to make it through the airport quickly. It's fine."

Booth looked doubtful, but he nodded. "Things seem pretty much under control with the crash site. I'll keep trying to track down Angie's parents, and I'll meet you at the hospital." For a moment they were partners again. _You take this, I've got that._ One last time. One last task. He picked up his cell phone and headed towards his car, one last mystery to solve.

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This wasn't exactly how she'd hoped to end things. Unambiguous, that's how she liked her endings. As she stood in the hospital lobby with Booth, she knew she'd have to accept a less than perfect resolution.

"Still no word on Angie's parents, huh?" The little girl had refused to let go of Brennan, silently clutching her clothing tightly all through the hospital intake and admissions procedures. Eventually, the doctors had been forced to pry them apart to take the child for x-rays. Brennan was trying to fight her feelings of guilt for basically taking the opportunity to sneak away. She had to go. She hadn't lied to the little girl, she had been honest. She just couldn't help picturing the child's face when she was returned to an empty hospital room. If only they had been able to locate her family first.

"No," Booth shook his head sadly. "Poor kid. Who knows what she's been through. We're checking with local elementary schools, seeing if we can get an ID that way. Social Services is on their way. They'll make sure she's taken care of.

Brennan nodded, trying to ignore the feeling that she could predict Angie's future. Trying to pretend that she didn't know what she knew.

Booth watched her bite her lower lip. He knew all of her tells, and this one meant she was fighting tears. He started to put his arm around her, but abruptly realized that their boundaries had shifted, and he no longer knew how far he could go. _God, this is exhausting._ "You gonna make it, Bones? I'd hate for you to stand-up your really old dead people. Wouldn't want to keep ancient remains waiting," he wiggled his eyebrows, attempting levity.

She let out a small laugh and shook her head. "I'll make it. There's still time."

They stood staring for a moment, as they had been doing more and more often during recent weeks. They'd become so unsure around each other, a change that only served to highlight how much they'd already lost.

"You know," Booth stammered, "I'm sorry I can't take you. I need to head back over to the crash site, and I promised Parker I'd get him from school, so that we could spend the night together before I leave tomorrow...."

Brennan held up a hand to stop him. "There's no reason for you to drive me to the airport. I'm perfectly capable of taking a cab. In fact, it's already on its way. Don't give it a second thought."

Booth nodded and looked down, putting his hands in his pockets. There was another awkward silence as they both wrestled with how to say goodbye.

This time, it was Brennan who broke it. "You'll say goodbye to Parker for me, right? Tell him to keep an eye on my father. Tell him I'll bring him back a gift from Indonesia."

"Yeah, Bones, I'll do that."

She nodded. "And...you know...I know you're leaving too, but if you happen to get any more information about Angie, maybe you could send me an email? I'll still have access to email, even though it will be intermittent."

"Sure. Sure, I'll do that."

"You'll have access to email too, at Fort Benning, right?"

"Yeah, Bones. If you'll have email in the third world, I'll have it in the South."

"I..I was just checking. Maybe you could keep me updated on how you're doing?" She glanced up timidly.

He couldn't resist. He reached up and brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek, his eyes closing at the contact. "Yeah," he breathed, "I'll keep you updated." His eyes opened slowly, and he found himself meeting a gaze he could no longer read. "Bones...." There was so much he wanted to say, but what was the point now? Still, he needed to at least reassure himself that she would be okay. "Look, take care of yourself, alright?" His tone was fierce and slightly hysterical. "Don't do anything stupid. I know you're, like, the smartest person on the planet, but sometimes you do some really stupid things...like skip meals. Don't do that. You need to eat. And you should wear sunscreen. Your skin is so pale...you don't want to get skin cancer, okay? Oh, and the ocean is tricky, so always swim with a buddy. And be sure to register with embassy whenever you change locations, just in case something happens. Don't talk to strangers, okay? Actually, maybe...just don't talk to anyone. You're there to work, not make friends, right? You don't know who you can trust. I know you'll be tempted, but try not to kill Daisy. I did some checking in to the legal system in Indonesia and, trust me, you don't want to spend time in one of those prisons. I don't really have any contacts or pull there, either, so just please don't shoot anyone, alright? Just, please...." He sighed,shaking his head.

She knew she should be offended. She should tell him he was being ridiculous, which he absolutely was, but she didn't want to argue with him. Not now, not when they were saying goodbye. Temperance Brennan isn't one to give in to her urges, but this time...this time she made an exception. She threw herself in his arms, clinging to him as tightly as Angie had clung to her.

"I'll see you in a year, okay?," she whispered fiercely. "Okay?"

"Yeah, Bones, I'll see you in a year," he was trying to convince himself.

They pulled apart, neither able to meet the other's eyes. He glanced at his watch. "So, I should go. You know, if I want to be able to get Parker from school."

"Yes, of course."

"Um, you gonna be okay here waiting alone?"

She smiled up at him sadly. _Of course I'll be okay alone. This is exactly what I wanted. _"The cab should be here any minute. Goodbye, Booth."

He returned her sad smile with one of own. "Bye, Bones." He headed toward his SUV, jogging so that he wouldn't be tempted to turn back.

**TBC**


	4. The More Things Change

**A/N: So, I still have more time than usual thanks to the fact that we are now officially a federal disaster area. Don't get too attached to the frequent updates, as soon life will get back to normal, and I will have to return to posting once or twice a week.**

Chapter 3: The More Things Change...

Brennan twisted around in her hard plastic chair, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. One would think that manufacturers would find a way to make these things a little more pleasant. These chairs are made for waiting, one of life's most dreaded activities, so shouldn't they be engineered with a bit more compassion for the poor souls who would someday have to sit in them? Also, she was cold. Freezing, in fact. It's as though these places were designed with the goal of making people as miserable as possible.

_I spend way too much time here. I should probably reevaluate my lifestyle choices._ Although, wasn't it reevaluating her lifestyle choices that had brought her here in the first place? Hadn't her decision been made? She sighed in resignation. This would almost certainly not be her last time in one of these chairs.

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The mental and physical exhaustion of the last week must have finally caught up with her, because the next thing Brennan knew, she was being startled awake by the sound of someone approaching. Turning quickly in her chair, she wondered if maybe she was actually still dozing. She shouldn't be seeing what she was seeing.

"Shouldn't you be on a plane?"

"Shouldn't you be on the other side of the world?," responded an equally surprised Booth. "Bones?," Booth prompted when she didn't answer.

Right, she was staring again. She was really going to have to get that under control. It's just that his presence here was so unexpected. They had just said goodbye. She had believed it would be twelve months before she saw him again, not twelve hours.

"Bones? Have you gone mute?"

Still staring...and smiling like a fool, if her reflection in the small mirror on the opposite wall was to be believed. _This must be what it feels like to be an average thirteen-year-old. _She pulled herself together, wanting to give him an answer before he was forced to ask her for a third time. She glanced at the sleeping little girl in the bed beside her before turning back to Booth. "No one had reported her missing. She had been lost for over twenty-four hours, and no one was wondering where she was. They found her parents. They were too busy running a meth lab to notice that their child never made it home. She isn't talking, but police believe she got lost trying to get herself to school Thursday morning. Her teacher said that she missed a lot of days. When she asked Angie about it, she said that she couldn't always wake her dad up to take her to school. She promised the teacher that she wouldn't miss any more. Teachers are mandatory reporters, you know. No one had made any reports, though...even though there are cigarette burns all down her legs, even though she's nearly seven-years-old, but is the size of a four-year-old. No one saw her. Although I try to avoid conjecture, I would imagine that's why she doesn't want to talk. She's already learned that no one listens."

Booth could see that he wasn't the only one who had been harassing metro police for an update. "So you decided to delay your trip?"

"I just...I know it's irrational...," she turned back to Angie, "I just couldn't let her come back to an empty hospital room. I just couldn't leave her alone."

Now it was Booth's turn to stare, to watch his supposedly closed-hearted best friend as she stood guard over a little girl she barely knew. He felt his stomach clench, and he was so absorbed in the sight that he almost missed her next words.

"And I didn't delay the trip. I cancelled."

She was gazing up at him, and now he was the one with an involuntary smile on his face. "Bones, what about Indonesia? That dig, it's huge- you said so yourself. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

"I find the phrase 'once-in-a-lifetime' to be woefully overused; not to mention largely hyperbolic."

Booth chuckled. "You're losing me with the big words, Bones."

Brennan rolled her eyes. "I just mean that it is impossible to know whether or not an opportunity will be 'once-in-a-lifetime,' and even if you could, does that necessarily mean that you should take it? I can think of several supposedly 'once-in-a-lifetime' opportunities that I would have no interest in acting upon. As a graduate student, I spent a summer in Papua New Guinea. At the end of my stay, some of the villagers offered to give me a traditional tattoo- it was likely a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but I had no qualms about passing."

"Yeah, but Bones, we're talking _really ancient remains_ here, not painful island tattoos."

"There's no need to add 'really' to 'ancient' Booth. Ancient is ancient, there's no need for a qualifier."

"Seriously, Bones?"

She gave him a wry smile, before telling him a truth she had been startled to discover. "I'm not sure...I'm not sure that ancient remains are still my passion. I think that...maybe...what we do is important...and I think, it's...I don't know. I suppose it's become who I am."

He could feel his involuntary grin getting even wider. "So, basically what you're saying is, I've ruined you for all other careers."

She laughed and shook her head, enjoying the familiar banter. "No, what I'm saying is, Ms. Wick deserves this opportunity to prove herself. I've had my opportunity. If I were there with her, she would be perpetually in my shadow. She has a great deal of potential, and I believe this will help her grow....also, I may be tempted to cause her physical harm, and you were right about Indonesian prisons. I have no desire to spend time in one."

Booth laughed and asked, "So where does that leave Angie?"

Brennan looked back at him tentatively. "With me...I talked to the Social Worker...I'm a registered foster parent, and she seems attached to me for whatever reason...so, with me. She's with me."

Booth's smile became less involuntary, as he offered the only words he could, words she'd heard before. "That's a lotta heart, Bones."

She allowed herself to get lost in his gaze for a few moments before asking, "What about you? You really are supposed to be on a plane."

"Me? Well, I came to bring this," He held up a small stuffed puppy dog she hadn't noticed when he first came into the room.

Brennan smiled at the toy, but gave him a pointed look that let him know she was waiting for the real answer.

"Parker," he said. "I went to pick him up yesterday afternoon, and he had this look on his face. He was devastated, you know? Little kids, man, they should never have to look like that. I had just left the hospital and Angie, and there was this little girl who was all alone, and I looked at my son, and I could tell that he felt like I was leaving him all alone too. I know it's not the same, but...suddenly, going away, it just didn't make sense."

It was true. He had never seen Parker looking so sad, and he had never felt like more of an ass. Sure, sometimes parents had to make decisions that their children didn't like, but this was different. This was selfish. He was running away, trying to make a middle out of an end. Angie and Bones, they knew what it was like to be left behind by the people who were supposed to stick with you. Isn't that what he had been trying to show Bones? That family sticks? Suddenly, it felt like he was betraying her too, and that's when he made up his mind. Parker wouldn't learn how it felt to be left behind, not from him. So the army had been pissed? They'd get over it. His son had been overjoyed, and that's what mattered.

There were questions. This was one of those moments when they had chosen to change everything. They had chosen to stay when it would have been so easy to go. They both had their reasons, but the result was all that mattered. It was as pivotal as that night in Sweets' office, and there would be consequences, of course there would be...but they weren't willing to face them now. There would be time for _'what does this mean?'_ tomorrow. For now, they could just be who they had been.

It was Brennan who spoke first. "So, I suppose it's fortunate that neither of our bosses have gotten around to replacing us yet."

Booth flashed her his best smile, "Aw Bones, as if they could." They shared a laugh, then Booth sat the stuffed puppy on Angie's bed. "I have to go. I promised Parker I would be at his soccer game this morning. I'll be back at 6:30 though, okay?" At Brennan's confused look, he clarified, "Dinner time, Bones. SInce it doesn't look like you're leaving anytime soon, I'm going to bring you dinner. Plus, it'll give me a chance to check on Angie when she's awake. If she's going to be living with you, I'll be seeing her all the time, so I'll need to make sure she's on my side. Maybe I'll sneak her in a sundae. What do you say, Bones, you think she likes hot fudge?"

She could make things awkward. She could ask him to explain if, by virtue of staying, she had somehow changed her place in his life. She could ask if this meant that things were going back to normal. She would ask...but not now. Instead, she matched his smile and answered simply, "What kind of kid doesn't like hot fudge?"

He gave her an 'atta-girl' wink as he turned to leave.

"Booth, wait!" Her voice was soft, but her tone was urgent, as she grabbed his arm to keep him from leaving. "Parker's lucky to have a dad like you- a dad who stays. He won't forget it."

He leaned down to give her a brief hug before he left. "Thanks, Bones."

**TBC**


	5. The Impossibility of Letting It Be

**A/N: The flood-induced frequent updating continues. Thank you for all the reviews, alerts and well-wishes. This will probably be the last time I'm able to update daily, but I will do my best.**

Chapter 4: The Impossibility of Letting It Be.

There had been a great deal to accomplish. The paperwork for Social Services had been endless. At least Brennan had found it relatively easy to schedule appointments for home visits with the caseworker- calendars tend to free up when everyone thinks you're spending the year in Southeast Asia. Undoing that perception had been next on her list.

Her call to Cam had been quick and to the point. Her supervisor had sounded immensely relieved that she wouldn't have to depend on the interns to take over Brennan's work. Brennan understood- her students were good, but she was the best. As she was hanging up, she thought she heard Cam say, "Wait! Dr. Brennan, did you say something about a child?!" She could explain that part later.

Her father had been next, and he had seemed genuinely happy that she wouldn't be leaving D.C. after all. "So you and Booth, you managed to work everything out, huh?"

She was taken aback. "What? Why would you ask that? My decision to leave had nothing to do with Booth; it was purely professional. Similarly, my decision to stay was not at all influenced by Booth; I'm staying to take in a foster child. Why would you think Booth and I had anything to work out?"

"Um, baby, could you back up to the part about taking in a foster child?"

"Yes, a seven-year-old girl named Angie," she smiled and waved at the little girl who had looked up at the sound of her name. Angie shyly returned the wave.

"Wow, Tempe. That's huge. I had no idea you were even considering..."

"I wasn't. Obviously, as I was planning to move to Indonesia. It all happened very suddenly. Look, Dad, can I call you back later? I have one more call I need to make, and I need to hurry so that I can return to my card game with Angie. I sense she cheats." She gave the girl a faux-glare and was rewarded with a half-smile.

Angela was the last call on her list. She and Hodgins had been threatening to leave on an extended honeymoon, but Hodgins had seemed distracted lately, so no firm plans had been made. Angela was overjoyed to discover that her friend was not, in fact, calling from Indonesia. In the background, Brennan could hear Hodgins shout, "Tell her I knew it! I knew she wasn't going anywhere. Sweets owes me fifty bucks!"

Brennan rolled her eyes, but deep down she was warmed by the fact that her friends seemed so happy she was staying. Angela took the news about Angie in stride; she wasn't easily surprised anymore, call it an occupational hazard. "Sweetie, I can't wait to meet the girl who changed Temperance Brennan's mind. Do you want me to bring you dinner at the hospital?"

"That won't be necessary, Angela. Booth said he would return around 6:30 with dinner and ice cream."

This time, even Angela was caught off guard. "Booth?! Booth is staying too?!"

Before she could reply, Hodgins was again interjecting. "HA! One hundred bucks! King of the betting pool!"

Brennan briefly explained that Booth had decided that a year was simply too long to be apart from Parker, and she agreed to meet up with Angela once Angie was released from the hospital.

In the midst of all the phone calls and paperwork, she had been getting acquainted with Angie. The child still refused to talk, which might have intimidated many people, but Brennan respected the girl's decision. Angie would talk when she had something to say, and Temperance Brennan was an expert at getting to know those who couldn't answer her questions...occupational hazard.

The fact that she had made the right decision was confirmed yesterday, when they brought Angie back from radiology. Her expression was a combination of dejection and terror. When she spotted Brennan waiting for her, her face didn't exactly light up, but there was a definite improvement. It felt good, Brennan decided, to be the one given the opportunity show the little girl that not everyone will let you down.

That evening Angie had mostly slept, but this morning had been a flurry of tests and check-ups. The prognosis was good. She was suffering from exposure, as a result of spending the night in the cool Spring air. The cigarette burns on her leg were a combination of new and old wounds, and they were being treated. Her eye had apparently been infected for quite sometime and was now covered with a bandage, but it should heal quickly. Because the little girl wouldn't answer questions, the doctors had decided it would be prudent to conduct a preliminary sexual assault exam. Brennan held her hand, familiar with this particular indignity. Thankfully, it did not appear that she had been sexually abused, although Brennan knew that these things couldn't always be detected by a physical exam. The most urgent issue was the fact that Angie was suffering from severe malnutrition. Brennan spent two hours with a nutritionist, developing a specialized diet for when she took Angie home.

Finally things quieted down, and Brennan had some time alone with her new foster daughter. She introduced herself again and told Angie all about her job...possibly too much about her job, but she was never sure exactly which details were considered age-appropriate. Regardless, Angie seemed interested, and Brennan was starting to believe they were bonding. Eventually, she ran out of things to say, so she asked one of the Child Life Specialists if they could bring her a deck of cards. She taught Angie a game she remembered from childhood; it was called speed, and it didn't require either player to talk. They lost themselves in the game and were startled a few hours later by Booth bursting in with an armload of food and ice cream.

"Hey Bones, Angie," he nodded at the little girl. "I come bearing Indian food and hot fudge sundaes. Might I suggest that we eat dessert first? I'm not sure how much longer these things will last without melting."

Brennan turned to Angie and asked, "Do you remember Agent Booth? He was with me when I found you yesterday." Seeing the wary look in the child's eye, she rushed to reassure her. "He's a nice man, I promise." Angie nodded, as though Brennan's word was enough.

Booth nudged his partner with a smile as he brought the little girl her sundae. "Thanks, Bones."

"Oh, and Angie, I'm Bones. It's what Booth calls me. It's a nickname. Anthropologically, nicknames are significant. They are used to denote affection..." She stopped abruptly at the dubious look on Booth's face.

"Really, Bones? You're lecturing a six-year-old on the anthropological implications of nicknames?"

Brennan gasped defensively. "Angie likes anthropology! Right, Angie?"

Booth had to laugh at the child's expression. She wasn't speaking, but the look she gave him let him know in no uncertain terms that she thought anthropology was the most fascinating topic in the world and that if he was a smart man, he would never dare to disagree with Brennan in front of her. Her expression, in fact, eerily mimicked Brennan's own. _So Bones has found herself another champion, huh? I think the two of us will get along just fine. _He gave the girl a nod of respect, and conceded, "Fine, anthropology it is. Congratulations, Bones. It looks like you've found yourself another squint."

Brennan quickly explained, "_Squint_ is another nickname. It's the term Booth uses to refer to really smart people, like the colleagues I was telling you about earlier."

"That's right, Angie," Booth said, passing another sundae off to Brennan, "and now you're one of them."

Through a mouthful of ice cream, Brennan asked Booth about Parker and found out that he had missed the game-winning goal that morning, but that his joy at having his dad around had overridden his disappointment.

"Parker is Booth's son," Brennan told Angie. "He's about your age. Actually, the two of you will probably attend the same school once we get you enrolled."

"Hey, that's right. Bones, this coming week is Spring break, are you going to back to the lab on Monday?"

"No," Brennan replied. "Cam agreed to let me have the week off. I thought it would be good for Angie and I to spend some time together before she started at her new school."

Booth gave Angie a wink and said, "Well, you know, I am also waiting until school starts back to return to work. I'm going to have Parker all week, so maybe we could all meet up sometime. Maybe go to the park?"

Brennan turned to the little girl, "Would you like that?"

Angie cut her eyes toward Booth, then back to Brennan before giving a faint nod.

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The easy conversation lasted all through dinner. Angie managed to be an active participant without ever saying a word. Booth had never seen a child with such expressive eyes. Though it was obvious she had been through hell, she seemed to intuitively know that she was in the company of people who understood. He noticed that she held on to the hem of Bones' shirt; even now, in her sleep, she never let go.

Brennan looked up from the sleeping girl and smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you," she said.

"Hey, no problem. This is what partners do."

Brennan gave him a searching look. "So, we're still partners?"

He met her gaze fiercely. "Of course we are Bones. I promised you that we always would be. Haven't you learned by now that I keep my promises?"

Brennan looked down. She thought she probably had learned that, but she didn't want to think too hard about the implications of that knowledge. "Have you told Catherine that you're staying yet?" She hated herself for asking, for ruining the evening _(and no doubt it would now be ruined)_, but she had to do it. Sitting here with Booth and Angie and ice cream, talking about Parker and school and the park, it seemed too much like she was allowing herself to fall into some fantasy life. Things hadn't changed, at least not between them. Had they gotten on their respective planes, things would have changed. They'd both chosen to stay, thus choosing to keep everything the same. That night in Sweets' office had still happened. She was still herself. He was still moving on. Best to remind herself now, before she got too far down the path of forgetting.

Booth sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Obviously it was too much to ask for her to stop picking at this open wound for even one day. "No," he answered shortly.

She nodded, then looked back up at him. "Well, I'm sure she'll be happy to hear you've stayed."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I'm sure she will." _Since we're back to this..._ "What about Hacker? Have you let him know that Indonesia's loss is his gain?"

"I am not sure what that means, but if you're asking if I have attempted to resume my social relationship with Andrew, the answer is no. Our personal relationship is over, and I see no need to change that. Besides, I highly doubt that I will have time for dating now that I have a child to care for."

Booth's heart leapt when he heard her dismiss the idea of dating, and he knew that was his cue to go. He said his goodbyes and watched through the door as she settled in protectively beside Angie. Well, at least he had enjoyed a few hours before realizing that he was right back where he started.

**TBC**


	6. Interlude: On Forgetting

Interlude: On Forgetting.

Have you forgotten about me? It's okay, I won't be offended. It's in human nature to forget, to whitewash, to overlook. How else could you survive? How else could you carry on? I promised to share with you all I know, and I keep my promises. What have we already discussed? I believe I've shared that people are both predictable and stupid. Here is lesson number three: People are resilient. That's right, resilient. It's unbelievable, really, the way people just keep on going.

Let's say, hypothetically of course, that you were buried alive- placed underground with a finite amount of air, unable to do anything to save yourself, unaware of whether or not anyone even realized you were gone. Maybe you're alone, maybe there's someone else with you. Either way, it doesn't matter, because you're going to die. Not only are you going to die, you're going to die slowly. You're going to be aware of every moment that passes. The air will get thinner and thinner, and you'll realize it as it happens. You will oscillate between hope and despair. As the hours pass, there will be times when you know help is just around the corner- you'll imagine it, envision the moment when you see light and open sky. Then, you will remember that this isn't a movie, a book, a television show. How could someone find you? You'll be sure this is the end. You'll rage at the injustice, you'll worry about your friends and family. Maybe you'll pray...maybe you'll write a note _(anything to be remembered)_. Now, let's just say _(hypothetically)_ that by sheer luck, you are rescued. Someone reaches you, just as you run out of time. You should have died, but you didn't. You cheated death, and for a moment you know it.

The thing about death is, it doesn't appreciate being cheated. It will come back for you, and for those first few weeks, it's all you can think about. _But_...eventually you begin to forget that you're living on stolen time. It's not yours, you have no right to it, but you choose not to remember. You go on. You live your life. You plan for the future. You forget. Death doesn't forget, though.

That's where I come in. I've told you I don't like loose ends. Again, you've got that horrified look on you face. It's the buried alive thing, isn't it? Calm down, I told you that was hypothetical. Burying people alive holds no appeal for me...everything happens so...out of the way. You have no control. There's always that chance of a rescue, of death being cheated. I'm here to keep you honest. I'm here to make sure cheaters are punished. I'm here to illustrate the folly of forgetting.


	7. The Value of Bedrooms & Social Contracts

**Author's Note: I apologize for the length of time between updates. I had the hardest time writing this chapter. I'm still not happy with it, but I really need to move this thing along. There are too many chapters coming up that I can't wait to write. Anyway, is everyone as excited about tonight's episode as I am?**

Chapter 5: The Subtle Value of Bedrooms and Social Contracts

"Okay, Angie, this is it. We're home." Brennan smiled nervously at the little girl who simply nodded, one hand grasping tightly to Brennan's skirt. This seemed to be a habit of Angie's- holding on to Brennan's clothing. It made it difficult to maneuver, but even Brennan could tell that this was a matter of security for the child; she couldn't bring herself to make her stop.

Besides, right now she had bigger problems. She had agreed to foster Angie on a whim, without really thinking about the consequences. At the time it had seemed like the right thing to do, and it still felt right, but the realities of having a child in her home and her life were just becoming clear. Like the fact that she had just realized that she had no idea what children liked to eat. Somehow, she doubted tofu and veggie burgers topped the list. Also, apparently children required supplies. Well, at the very least they needed clothes, and Angie had none. Typically, a child in state's custody would be able to bring her things with her to a foster home. Unfortunately, Angie's home had doubled as a meth lab, meaning that every meager thing the child owned was contaminated and had been destroyed. Temperance had thought it was bad having to stuff all of her belongings into a trash bag each time she was moved. She hadn't really considered how much worse it might be to have nothing to put in a bag.

All of the considerations of motherhood, though only temporary motherhood, that she had been ignoring began piling up in her mind. Who would take care of Angie while she was working? How would she need to modify her lifestyle and her routine? How could she tell if she was doing things correctly if Angie wouldn't talk? Trying to stem the rise of panic that threatened to overwhelm her, she took a deep breath and patted Angie's springy hair. A quick call to Angela would take care of a shopping plan, so all she really needed to think about right now was food. Later she would map out all of her other concerns and develop a comprehensive set of solutions.

"So, Angie, what do you like to eat?" She looked at the little girl hopefully, but was greeted with silence and a shy blink. _Right, you're still not up to talking. Well, it was worth a try._ Brennan thought back, wishing she had paid more attention to Parker and Russ's girls at meal times. "Angie," she looked the girl in the eye, "it's okay with me if you don't talk. However, if you don't voice your preferences, I'm just going to have to cook what I like. Do you understand?"

Angie nodded, and Brennan figured it was probably a good sign that the child was willing to communicate at all. "Okay, then. I'm going to make macaroni and cheese and a salad. It's Booth's favorite- you remember Booth, right?" Again, Angie nodded. "Well, sometimes he reminds me of a six-year-old, so I'm going to assume you like what he likes." She decided her logic was sound when Angie gave her a grin.

OoO

Dinner was a success, and Brennan was starting to feel pretty accomplished. Angie had eaten two servings of macaroni and salad, and when Brennan had started clearing the plates, Angie pulled a chair over to the sink and started filling it with soap and water to wash dishes. Brennan didn't think this was typical six-year-old behavior, but everything she had learned about the little girl's past indicated that Angie was probably used to having to be the adult in her house. As Brennan placed the dishes in the sink, Angie would pick them up and scrub them. She experienced an unexpected flashback to her own experience with dishwashing in her third foster home, and her immediate inclination was to lift the girl off the chair and get her away from the sink. Angie looked happy, though. She was kind of splashing and doing a little childish dance while standing on the chair. She looked back at Brennan expectantly, and they soon got into a rhythm of scrubbing, drying and putting away.

Next up was bath time. Again, Brennan was unsure of how to proceed. How much help did six-year-olds require in the tub? Could they take showers, or only baths? She decided that a bath was the way to go, but she was worried by her lack of toys. From the number of plastic animals and action figures in Booth's bathroom, she gathered children expected to be entertained in the bath. Or maybe those weren't for Parker, and it was just that Booth wanted to be entertained. She flashed back to the image of him in that ridiculous beer helmet and laughed. Just in case, she added some lavender bubble bath to the running water. Everyone liked bubbles, right?

Angie didn't have pajamas yet, so Brennan grabbed the smallest t-shirt she had in her drawer and led the little girl into the bathroom. Helping her undress, she was reminded once again that the child she had taken in had likely been abused her entire life. From the scars all over body, it was apparent that lit cigarettes had been her parents' weapon of choice. Brennan swallowed hard as her eyes began to water. Angie was watching her with solemn eyes, daring her to flinch Determined not to let her down, Brennan forced back tears and lifted the girl into the bubbly water. Angie didn't look convinced, so Brennan stuck out her tongue. The little girl's eyes sparkled briefly as she stuck out her own tongue in return.

Brennan must have been right about the bubbles, because it was difficult to convince Angie to get out of the tub. Finally, she started explaining the scientific reasons for prune fingers, and Angie gave in. Dressed in an oversized t-shirt and still holding on to Brennan's skirt, the little girl followed her new foster mother down the hall to the guest bedroom. Pausing in the doorway, Brennan tried to look at the room through a child's eyes. It was big and expensively furnished, but it wasn't exactly child friendly. Again, Brennan flashed back to her days in foster care. The first night in a new bedroom was always the worst, reminding her just how alone she was. People take their bedrooms for granted. They don't realize how important having one is to your sense of belonging. Worriedly, she crouched in front of Angie.

"This is your bedroom now. I'll be just down the hall, okay? Tomorrow we'll go and get clothes and toys." Brennan glanced at the subtle coffee tones on the wall and sighed. "And paint. I'll let you pick any color you want, and my friend Angela? You'll meet her tomorrow. She's an artist, and I bet if we ask nicely, she'll draw you a pretty picture on the walls. Anything you like."

Brennan lifted the timid-looking child onto the bed and tucked her in. "Goodnight, Angie. I'll see you in the morning." She left the room, still feeling the little girl's eyes on her.

Abruptly, she ran to her own room and grabbed the two items she was looking for. Returning to Angie, she sat the little plastic pig and smurf down on the bedside table and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. Giving her hand a squeeze, she whispered, "Everything's going to be okay."

OoO

It was early, but Brennan was exhausted and decided that she should probably go to bed too. Children were notorious for waking up at ridiculously early hours, at least, that's what she thought she remembered people saying. She picked up a stack of mail that had accumulated during the time she was with Angie in the hospital, thinking she would go through it quickly before turning out the lights.

After she changed into her own pajamas, Brennan sat in the middle of her comfy bed, flipping through bills, catalogues and advertisements. In the middle of the stack, she found a card in a thick linen envelope. Wondering if it might be an invitation of some sort, she opened it quickly, groaning slightly when she read the note inside.

_Dear Temperance,_

_ It's a little strange that I'm writing you a note, isn't it? I had hoped you would find it endearingly old-fashioned, or maybe even romantic, but you just think it's weird, don't you? Ugh. I always do the wrong thing. That's it, I'm tearing this up._

_ Okay, I'm back. I'm not going to tear this up. I'm going to take a chance here. I could call, or email, or (god forbid) text, but I'm going bet on you finding letter-writing charming. Don't let me down Temperance!_

_ So aside from showering you with all my personal angst, I'm writing to say how happy I am that you've decided to stay on here in D.C. Indonesia's loss is the FBI's (and might I hope my personal) gain. I look forward to seeing you again soon. Is it too pathetic to say that the coffees I've had with you were among the best warm beverages of my life? It is, isn't? Well, it's already out there, so you'll just have to take pity on me._

_Yours,_

Andrew

Perfect. Apparently a mixed-cd represented a social contract that was more strongly binding than she had believed. Yet again, Brennan found herself cursing her social limitations. She had thought that last conversation in the cafe had ended her semi-personal relationship with Andrew. It hadn't occurred to her that the end of their relationship was actually contingent on her leaving the country.

Andrew was a pleasant conversation partner with impeccable taste in restaurants. In the past, that would have been enough. In the present, however, dating anyone just reminded her of who she wasn't dating...which reminded her of how things had changed, which reminded her of how much she stood to lose. She didn't want to remember. For now, she wanted to continue living on stolen time. She wanted to continue pretending that they were the exception to the principle of entropy- everything would change but them.

Still, she had no wish to string Andrew along. With a nod of determination, she picked up the phone beside her bed and dialed his number.

"Temperance! I take it you got my note? Okay, you have to tell me, charming or ridiculous? Please say charming, please say charming."

She could almost picture him crossing his fingers and scrunching up his eyes as if making a wish. She couldn't stop the smile that slowly spread across her face. "Yes, Andrew, I did get your note. I found it quite charming."

"Yeessss!"

This time she could picture his fist pump, and she laughed out loud before turning serious. "I really do appreciate the fact that you took the time to write to me. I look forward to resuming my working relationship with the FBI."

"Ah. Your professional relationship, yes of course. Am I correct in assuming that the most important part of that statement is the part left unsaid?" Andrew sounded disappointed, but resigned.

"Andrew, you're a really nice man and a lot of fun,-"

"But. There's always a but."

She felt bad. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. We had a good time together. Besides I always knew how it go." He gave an exaggerated sigh, letting her know that he was taking it all in stride. "We all know who the standard is, and we all know I could never measure up."

Brennan shook her head in confusion. "I don't know what that means."

"Does anyone still buy that, Temperance?" Andrew laughed gently. "Well, I really am glad you're staying. You and Booth may be good for each other, but you're also good for my career. I suppose I'll be seeing you around the Hoover?"

"Yes. Thanks again for the note."

"My pleasure. Thanks for saying I was nice."

OoO

After hanging up with Andrew, Brennan leaned against her pillows trying to sort out the mixture of relief and guilt she felt. Though it had never been her intention, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had treated Andrew unfairly. He had been quite kind to her, and they had enjoyed their time together. It had never occurred to her that he might expect more from their relationship than she was able to give. She frowned, upset that she might have been using him all along.

Brennan was distracted from her regrets by a scuffling sound just outside her door. She softly peeked her head out to find Angie curled up on the floor just outside the room, Jasper and Brainy clutched to her chest. She bent down to pick up the little girl, who quickly added the sides of her pajama top to her already full hands. Brennan knew that people said you shouldn't let children sleep in the bed with you, that they would make it a habit, and you would have a horrible time getting them to sleep in their own rooms. She knew that Angie needed to learn that she was safe in Brennan's home and in her room.

But. _Andrew was right, there's always a but. _Maybe the best way for Angie to learn that she was safe was to be allowed, just for tonight, to sleep in the same room with the adult who promised to take care of her. To be honest, Brennan wouldn't mind the company herself. She was still having residual nightmares from Heather Taffet's trial. Both Brennan and Angie had learned pretty early on that monsters were far more likely to find you in the light of day than to come crawling out from under your bed at night. Didn't that knowledge entitle them both to indulge in a little childish comfort? Brennan turned out the lights and wrapped her arms around the little girl who never let go of her pajama shirt. Just for tonight.

**TBC**


	8. Pink: Accept No Substitutes

**Author's Note: While the last chapter was difficult for me to write, this one was almost too much fun. In fact, it was supposed to have a bit more going on, but I got carried away with the toys and had to wrap it up. I'll put everything I left out in the next chapter. Let me know if I was too self-indulgent in this one!**

Chapter 6: Pink- Accept No Substitutes.

"Okay, Angie darling, which one of these do you like?" Angela crouched down in front of the little girl, spreading out paint samples like a fan. This was their final stop before the toy store. They had already loaded up one of Hodgins' larger vehicles with clothes, bedding and books. Angela always loved helping her best friend spend her money, but this had been the best shopping day ever. She had forgotten how fun it was to be a kid. Even though she couldn't go back, she decided she'd live vicariously through Angie. After witnessing the child's willingness to try on as many outfits as she could put together and still put on a little fashion show of final selections, complete with accessories, Angela decided that Angie was definitely her kind of kid. Even Bren had gotten into it and had managed to maintain her good mood, in spite of the fact that she usually hated shopping.

"Ange, you've got to be kidding me," interrupted her very exasperated best friend.

_Spoke too soon, _Angela thought. "What are you talking about Bren? You said Angie could choose any color she wanted."

"Yes, but those are all the same color. It's not really a choice if you have her choosing between pink and more pink."

Angela stood with her hands on her hips. "I'm disappointed in you, sweetie. At the lab, you are always going on about the importance of being specific and paying attention to detail." She shook her head.

"I fail to see your point."

"My point is, _these_," Angela waved the paint samples, "are not all pink. This one is magenta, this one is blush, this is rose, this one is actually pink, this is ballet slipper-"

Brennan yanked the last sample out of her hand. "First of all, 'ballet slipper' is not a color. Second of all," she grabbed another sample, "I draw the line at magenta. I'm sorry, Angie, I know I said you could choose any color," she looked at the girl apologetically, "but I just can't let you choose this one. It's for your own good." Turning back to Angela, she continued, "Besides, you seem to be assuming that just because Angie is a female, she must prefer the color pink. Why are there no blues, or greens, or yellows....or even purple? This is just another example of the kind of gendered socialization that shapes society's notions of-"

"Stop. Stop right there. Rule number 12. Come on, Bren, you know this one. No anthropology lectures on shopping day." Angela crouched back down to Angie (who was of course holding on to the hem of Brennan's t-shirt) and patted her shoulder seriously. "You need to learn the rules too, kiddo. I can already tell where your loyalties lie, and I respect that. Rumor is you have a thing for anthropology. Again, I respect that, but since you're probably going to start talking one day, and you're probably going to sound like Bren, you're going to have to follow the rules too. Don't worry, I'll teach you all about them while we're painting."

Angela stood once again and returned to the wall of paint samples. Grabbing about twenty more off the shelf, she flounced back over to Angie and Bren. She waved the yellows, blues, greens and purples at Brennan and said, "See? Now you can be sure that she realizes the full spectrum of her choices. No need to be concerned that she'll grow up believing her place is in the kitchen. Geez." Once again, she crouched down in front of Angie. "Now, girlfriend, which one of these do you like for your room?"

She tried not to laugh when, after several minutes of careful deliberation, Angie selected 'ballet slipper.'

OoO

Colors chosen and a mural planned, the threesome set off for their next destination. The toy store was overwhelming, with its bright colors and its overly excited patrons. Angie clutched more tightly at the shirt in her hands and buried her face in Brennan's stomach. Although Brennan was tempted to react similarly, she was determined to make this fun for the little girl. Children were supposed to love toy stores, not fear them as Angie apparently did.

"Oh, look Angie!" Brennan grabbed a game box and turned to the girl. "This could be fun."

"You can't be serious," Angela laughed, grabbing the box from Brennan. " 'Spill Your Guts'," she read, " 'Assemble all the patient's organs- without spilling its guts!' Oh Bren, only you."

She was offended. "I don't know what's so funny. It says right here that this game won the National Association for Gifted Children Award in 2007. Besides, I don't see you with a better suggestion," she scoffed, placing the game in her cart.

"Oh, I have a better suggestion," Angela turned, proudly displaying her find before placing it in the cart. "Light Bright! Angie, this is the best toy ever. You're going to love it."

Feeling her competitive streak roar to life, Brennan looked around and spotted the object she had hoped to find. She held it up with a cocky smile and said, "But not as much as you're going to love this. It's a microscope." She dropped it beside the other toys as Angela started to squeal.

"Colorforms! Oh my god, I LOVED these things! Angie, you are so lucky that all the toys of the 80's are making a comeback."

Not to be out done, Brennan snatched a yellow plastic tub off the end of an aisle. "Look Angie, it's a butterfly farm. We can watch the caterpillars' metamorphosis into butterflies."

Angela started to issue a sarcastic comeback, but as they turned down the next aisle, she changed her mind and grabbed her best friend's arm instead. "Bren," she said breathlessly, "Do you see what I see?"

"My Little Pony!," both women happily exclaimed in unison. They rushed over to the shelf of multi-colored ponies and began picking out their favorites.

Brennan turned worriedly to the little girl ever-present at her side. "Angie, you do realize that ponies don't actually come in this many colors, correct? And they also do not have pictures of ice cream cones and butterflies on their backsides. I mean, they may have markings, but those are typically from brands that allow the owners to keep up with their livestock. They are applied through a painful process of-"

The little girl's eyes widened, and Angela intervened, "TMI, Bren. You remember TMI, right?" Brennan nodded _(Although, didn't the term refer to personal information? Angela's colloquialisms are challenging to keep up with sometimes.)_ "Angie knows the difference between a real horse and a toy, right Angie?"

The little girl nodded without saying a word, and Brennan felt a pang of tenderness. "I apologize, Angie. You're a very smart girl, of course you know the difference. Sometimes I explain things too much." She smiled. "You know, I think Angela and I are having all the fun here. It's like we talked about with dinner last night- unless you tell me what you want, you're going to keep getting what I want. Why don't you pick out some toys you like, okay?" She ran a hand over Angie's puffy pigtails.

"Yeah, Angie," Angela agreed. "You should definitely find some stuff you want. This store is huge, and Bren didn't give us a price limit." She winked at the girl before leaning over to whisper to her friend, "We can still keep the ponies and the Light Bright, right?"

Brennan laughed and nodded. "Why do I have the feeling you'll be spending more time than ever at my house now? What will Hodgins think?"

"Oh, whatever, Sweetie. As if you aren't positively giddy at the thought of playing with these bad boys and their special pony castle!" Turning back to Angie, she added, "Alright kiddo, this is your show now. Lead the way!"

OoO

Angie seemed unsure of herself in the store. She shyly peeked her head down every aisle, but she never pointed to anything that she wanted. Finally, she turned down the last aisle in the store, pausing in the middle and looking pointedly at an item on the middle shelf.

"Huh," Angela said, nodding her approval. "It looks like we may have a little tomboy on our hands. Good for you Angie!"

"A soccer ball?" Brennan asked. "Is this what you want?"

Angie gave a faint nod, and looked down, chewing nervously on her bottom lip.

"A soccer ball is an excellent choice."

The child's face lit up at her foster mother's approval.

"You know, Angie, if you like soccer, maybe we could watch the World Cup together this summer. Booth made me get the cable package that includes all the speciality sports channels, so we won't have to miss any of the games."

As if she had conjured him with the simple mention of his name, her partner was suddenly standing right in front of her.

"Bones! Angela!" He said with surprise. "Oh, and look, it's Shadow!" He crouched down to give the little girl a high five. "What are you guys doing here?"

"We're just finishing up shopping for Angie's room," Angela answered. "What about you, big man? Looking for the latest Ninja Turtle to complete your collection? By the way, I'm so glad to hear you're staying," she said, leaning in to hug her favorite FBI agent.

"Thanks, Ange," he said. "And very funny about the turtles. If they're ninjas, it sounds more like something Bones would be interested in. I'm actually here with Parker, who forgot to tell me that he has a birthday party he's supposed to be at in twenty minutes. He's somewhere around here finding the perfect gift."

Brennan looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Wait a minute, Booth. Who's Shadow? Is that some kind of toy? Like the militant turtles you were just discussing?"

Booth laughed. "No, silly," he said, pointing to Angie. "She's Shadow."

Brennan looked even more perplexed. "No, she's Angie."

Booth tried to hold in his laughter this time. "Yes, she is, but I think it's confusing, having two Angies. She needs a nickname, and since she's always right by your side, I think Shadow is perfect."

"I still don't understand. There aren't two Angies." She watched as Booth looked meaningfully at Angela, then back to Angie. "No," she shook her head, "that's Angela. This is Angie. It's not the same name."

"Sweetie," Angela piped up, "it's pretty much the same name."

"I know that Angie is a derivative of Angela," Brennan started, "but-"

"I'll settle this," Booth stated, crouching down in front of the little girl. "Angie, do you mind if I call you Shadow- as an anthropological signifier denoting affection?"

Angie shrugged and nodded, and Booth put his arms in the air in victory. "Shadow it is. Shadow and Bones, hee, hee."

Brennan rolled her eyes as Parker came careening around the corner, waving some sort of action figure above his head. "I found it, Dad, I found it. I told you I could be fast! I- Oh," he came to a sudden halt, "Hey, Dr. Bones. Hey, Angela." He looked at Angie curiously.

"Hello, Parker. This is Angie. She's going to be living with me for a while."

"Yeah, son, Shadow here is actually going to be starting at your school next week."

Parker gave his dad a confused look. "But she's so small."

"_Angie,"_ Brennan emphasized, "is small for her age, but with the proper diet she will soon catch up with her peers. She will be in first grade."

"Oh, I'm in third," Parker addressed the girl, "but we have recess at the same time as the first graders." He looked at the ball in her hands. "Do you like soccer, Shadow?"

Booth grinned, and Angela laughed, while Brennan threw up her hands in mock exasperation. Angie remained silent, refusing to meet the other child's eye. Parker looked back at his father for guidance.

Booth ruffled his son's curls. "Well, Parker, the things about shadows is that they're quiet- isn't that right, Shadow?" He gave the girl a wink.

"Oh," Parker nodded wisely, "I get it. Cool."

Booth chuckled at his son and waved to the women. "We best be on our way if we're going to make it to that party on time. You girls enjoy the rest of your day."

Brennan looked at Angie, then up at Angela. "What is it with Booth men and nicknames?"

**TBC**

**Author's Note (again): In case you were wondering, Spill Your Guts is a real game, and it actually won that award. It's amazing, the things you find online. Also, I don't know if you can really still buy Light Brights, but if you can, I'm totally going to go get one.**


	9. On Fairy Godmothers & Going Too Far

**Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who let me know that you can still purchase Lite Brights! I know what I'll be doing this weekend....**

Chapter 7: On Fairy Godmothers & Going Too Far.

"Whoa there, little one. I'm new to parenting, but I believe this signifies that it's nap time," Brennan said as she caught Angie's arm, just stopping her from falling head first into a tray full of 'ballet slipper' paint. If the way she kept nodding off was any indication, the excitement of the day had finally caught up to the little girl. They had started their shopping early so that they would still have time to come home and paint. Angela, being Angela, managed to turn painting into a party, complete with Motown music and dancing. Brennan took the mini-roller out of Angie's hand and placed it along side her own in the paint tray. She lifted the little girl gently in her arms and started for the door.

"I'm just going to put her in my bed," she told Angela, who was hard at work on a pretty impressive butterfly mural. "I'll be right back." Angela nodded and let out a soft "awww."

In her own bedroom, Brennan placed the little girl in the middle of the bed and softly kissed her forehead. She took Jasper, Brainy, and the stuffed puppy Booth had brought to the hospital and arranged them around the sleeping child, as though they were standing guard. It was silly, but it made her feel better about leaving this little girl, who never stopped holding onto her, alone in the room. Better to always be watched over, even if it was by a ragtag assortment of playthings.

She returned to Angie's room and picked up her paint roller. She had to admit that it would be much easier to finish up the last coat of paint without a six-year-old attached to her shirt. She was just beginning to worry about how Angie would handle the separation that school would bring when she caught a glimpse of Angela's mural.

"Ange! It's breathtaking. Wow. It looks almost three-dimensional." She looked at her best friend admiringly. "I really can't thank you enough for this. For everything. If you hadn't been with me today, I'm not sure what I would have done."

"From the looks of things, you would have done fine, Bren. You and Angie are a natural fit." This earned her a shy smile. "Besides, I've had a great time. The My Little Pony moment alone was worth it, and I've positively fallen in love with Angie. I plan to fully enjoy my new role of fairy foster godmother."

Brennan laughed. "I don't think there's any such thing as 'foster godmothers'...or fairies."

"Nope, Bren, you're wrong about this one. Trust me, it's one of those times when I know best."

"Hmph," Brennan rolled her eyes good-naturedly before turning serious. "So, Angela, would you be able to engage in what you commonly refer to as 'girl talk' right now, or would that distract you from your mural?"

"Temperance Brennan," Angela turned to her, waving her paint brush threateningly, "you better not be toying with me. You spill, I'll paint."

"I called Andrew last night," Brennan admitted sheepishly.

"Why?" Angela asked, trying to keep the disapproval out of her voice. "I thought you two had agreed not to see each other anymore."

"I thought so too!" Brennan exclaimed, relieved that her more social-savvy best friend had come to the same conclusion she had. "Apparently, Andrew thought things would be different if I didn't go to Indonesia. He wrote me a letter, so I felt like I had to call."

"Wait, Sweetie, he wrote you a letter? What is this, 1945? Can I read it?"

"No! I know you, you'll just laugh."

"Fine," Angela had to admit her friend was right. Besides, if she didn't push it now, she might still stand a chance of getting her hands on that letter later. "So, what did you say when you called? Are you guys going to start seeing each other again?" Angela wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer. She loved Brennan dearly, but for a genius, she had never met anyone more dense about her own heart. If Angela was right, and she almost always was, her friend was thisclose to realizing that she should grab Seeley Booth and never let go. The whole third party routine was getting old.

"Of course not, Angela. My desire to end our relationship was independent of my decision to leave the country. I let him know that I looked forward to seeing him in a _professional_ capacity."

"Oh." _Thank God_. Angela fought the urge to do a happy dance in the middle of the bedroom. Now that she was reassured of a positive outcome, she could afford to push things a bit. "Why did you end things again, Bren? I thought you were enjoying your coffees together."

"Yes, our dates were fine."

"And I thought you thought he was handsome."

"He is well-structured and pleasing to the eye."

Angela chose not to point out that the statement sounded like one you might make when referring to a bookshelf or an armoire. "Indeed. So what gives? Are you forsaking men to focus on Angie?"

"No," Brennan said uncertainly. She hadn't thought about it that way, though that was definitely a good reason. "No, I just...he's just...." _Not Booth._

_Not Booth_, Angela thought. _Come on, Bren just say it out loud. You know you want to. Put us all out of our misery._ "He's just....," Angela prompted.

She almost said it. She almost let everything she'd been holding in for years just come spilling out. But _(and isn't there always a 'but'?) _at the last second, she swerved. "He's just so in to bluegrass."

Angela was thrown. "Huh? Bluegrass? You mean bluegrass music?"

"Yes," Brennan nodded. "He loves it...and not just listening to it, he also plays it. His home is full of really old acoustic guitars, and he has these special warm-feeling picks for them, and-"

"Sweetie, you're losing me. You don't want to continue your relationship because of guitars and bluegrass?"

"Exactly," Brennan confirmed. "I hate bluegrass. I didn't know it before I started seeing him, because I wasn't really around it very much, but I find that particular kind of music exceedingly disagreeable. And he loves it. I mean _really _loves it."

Angela wanted to laugh at the thought of her friend, whose own cd collection included a comprehensive sampling of atonal chanting, breaking up with someone over his taste in music. Still, the end result was desirable, so Angela kept quiet. "Fair enough, Bren. Fair enough."

OoO

By the time Angie woke from her nap, the bedroom was completely painted, shelves were installed, and toys, books and clothes were put away. The bed was draped in a new, six-year-old appropriate quilt, and a nightlight was installed. Angela insisted on covering the little girl's eyes as she led her into the room.

"Ta-da!" She withdrew her hands from Angie's face with a flourish. "What do you think?"

Brennan watched with a smile as the little girl's jaw dropped. She turned slowly around the room, taking in the new bed, the My Little Pony village (complete with castle), the new soccer ball and, finally, the mural.

With a gasp, Angie walked, hands outstretched, toward the painting.

"You can't touch it yet," Brennan reluctantly interrupted. "It's not dry, and if you touch it, you'll smear it. It should be dry tomorrow." Angie nodded and smiled adoringly at Angela.

Fairy foster godmother, indeed.

OoO

Brennan and Angie were saying goodbye to Angela when there was a knock on the front door. Brennan opened the door to reveal two Booths and a pizza.

"We brought pizza!" Parker announced helpfully.

Booth smiled, "We thought you ladies might be hungry after all your hard work."

Brennan tried not to think about the massive amounts of dopamine her brain started secreting at the mere sight of her partner. "How thoughtful of you! Come on in." She took the pizza and placed it on her counter. "We'll eat in just a second, but first you have to come see the mural Angela painted for Angie. It's unbelievable."

The group was walking back toward the bedroom, Angie and Angela leading the way, when without warning, Booth had his companions pressed against the wall and his gun out and pointed towards Brennan's bedroom.

For a moment everything was eerily silent. It was an equally horrified and stunned Brennan who spoke first. "Booth! What on earth are you doing?"

"I saw someone out of the corner of my.... Wait, is that a mirror?" Booth asked, gesturing toward the full length mirror standing in Brennan's bedroom, angled toward the door.

"Yes, Booth, it is. Are you going to shoot it, like you did that clown?" Brennan asked with a raised eyebrow.

Booth closed his eyes and carefully re-holstered his gun. _Great. I just pointed my weapon at a mirror. In front of two children...one of whom is mine, and the other of whom already has significant trauma issues. Classic, Seeley._ He could tell by the expressions on the two women's faces that he would never live this one down. His first priority, however, was the children. He began to gather his thoughts and formulate an explanation.

He needn't have worried.

Before the elder Booth could open his mouth, Parker laughed and patted Angie on the arm. "Don't worry Shadow," he told the little girl in a knowing tone that clearly said _'parents.'_ "My dad is an FBI Agent, so he's always doing things like checking the car before he lets you get in and yelling at you if you forget to lock the door. He just wants to make sure there are no bad people. Also, he likes to show-off in front of Dr. Bones."

At this, Angela doubled over in laughter, Brennan blushed, and the two children continued on to look at the mural, as though nothing had happened. Booth wondered if it was possible to will the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

Trying to save face, he turned to the women with a joking smile. "When did ya get the mirror, Bones? Were you worried that you'd leave the house wearing shoes that didn't match your shirt?"

Angela was still laughing so hard that tears were rolling down her face, and Brennan had recovered from her momentary embarrassment enough to shoot him a sassy grin. "Oh you know, Booth, it never hurts to have a strategically placed mirror in the bedroom."

_God kill me now. _His thoughts must have been written all over his face, because Brennan rolled her eyes and gave him a pointed look.

"You never know when a creepy serial killer might be lurking in the bedroom."

"Oh, that's a joke. Funny, Bones. Ha, ha."

"Alright you two, I'm out of here. Enjoy your pizza...and Booth? Try not to shoot anything, okay?" Angela smiled.

"Et tu, Ange? That's funny. You're both hilarious." He looked from one woman to another. "You don't want to stay and eat with us?"

"I'll have to take a raincheck. Hodgins and I have big plans for the night. We're trying out this new-"

"Stop right there, Angela," Booth held out his hand to silence her. "I don't want to hear another word about whatever it is you and Hodgins are trying out tonight. There are _children_ right down the hall."

"You're right Booth, I'm sure that whatever Hodgins and I are going to do would be so much scarier for the kids than, I don't know, you threatening to shoot the furniture." Angela shook her head and smiled affectionately. "Bye kids!," she called.

"Bye, Angela!," Parker ran out into the hall, a waving Angie close behind. "Your painting is so cool! Could you do one for me? But maybe not with butterflies?"

"Sure thing little man. I'll come up with an idea and get in touch with your dad. Enjoy your dinner!"

OoO

After dinner, Booth and Brennan stood together washing dishes while Parker and Angie went back to her room to try out the soccer ball. Brennan was so relieved that Angie seemed capable of interacting with other children that she didn't experience the sense of awkwardness that had been synonymous with her partner's presence ever since she had turned him down and he had decided to move on.

"Thanks for bringing dinner," she nudged him affectionately.

"My pleasure, Bones. It's pretty great what you're doing for Angie. You're really wonderful with her." His partner beamed up at him. She looked so young and beautiful and..._unguarded_. She looked at him like someone who loved him, and more than anything in the world, he wanted it to be true. He wanted her to never stop looking at him like that. He wanted to run his soapy fingers across her face and kiss her right there in front of the sink. He wanted it so badly it was painful, and he really didn't know how he had managed the last five years.

In the end, it was the memory of how it felt to have her push him away that stopped him. He would gamble once, but not twice. This time, it was him that flinched. He gave her a half smile and nudged her back. Desperate to break the sudden silence between them, the one that threatened to suffocate him with words unsaid, he brought up a topic that had been niggling at the back of his mind since the other night. "Bones," he said cautiously, "this thing with Angie...you know it's only temporary, right?"

His stomach clenched as he watched her smile fade and her guard return in an instant. "Of course I know it's temporary, Booth. That's the very definition of the term 'foster parent'."

"I know you know that intellectually, but it's hard not to get attached. I mean, you've painted a room for her and everything."

Right, a painted bedroom. Suddenly, a montage of frightening, impersonal bedrooms flashed before her eyes. All of the places she'd been forced to stay. All of the rooms that had only served to remind her that she was unwanted, unloveable, without a place. "What are you trying to say, Booth?" She started slamming dishes as she put them away. "I painted a room. So what? It took two hours! Angie doesn't have a permanent home or parents that want her, so she should be constantly reminded of those facts, is that what you're saying? God forbid, she be allowed to feel comfortable, to feel like she has a place to belong. God forbid, she be allowed to forget, even for a little while, that she has been abandoned. That she has been completely and devastatingly failed by the only people in the world who are obligated to love her. She should always remember that she isn't like the other kids, that she isn't like Parker. No. She is alone. Is that the point you're trying to make?"

Booth could see that Brennan's hands were shaking with fury, and he was pretty angry himself, though not with her. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing he'd hit Max Brennan a little harder when he had the opportunity. "Bones, that's not what I mean at all, and you know it," he spoke gently. "I just...I don't want you to get hurt. Soon she'll have to leave, and I just want you to be careful."

Brennan started laughing cruelly as she turned to face him. "When are you going to learn Booth? I don't need to be protected, especially not by you. You're the one that's incapable from separating your own selfish emotions from any given situation. You're the one that's too quick to form foolish attachments. I believe Sweets would call this 'projecting.' The sting of my rejection has obviously impacted your opinion. If anything, this situation should simply serve to reinforce my point that night,which was that I. AM. NOT. LIKE. YOU. I'm not like you, and I would appreciate it if you would keep any further _concerns_ to yourself." She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't know what possessed her to make this about the two of them. She wanted to take back the words as soon as she said them, but she didn't get the chance.

Now he was furious with her. Absolutely, fucking furious. She had gone way, way too far, and he was in no state of mind to make his usual allowances. "You know what Bones?," he whispered viciously, "You're right. You are nothing like me. I apologize. Watching you with that little girl, I just forgot for a minute that you can sometimes pretend that you're one of us- that you're not a heartless bitch. Unfortunately, you can never keep it up for very long. Don't worry, it won't happen again. Parker," he called, trying to keep the fury out of his voice. "Come on, it's time to go!"

Parker and Angie came running out of the back room. "Dad!," Parker exclaimed. "Shadow and I were playing with her soccer ball, and she's actually really good. Not good for a little kid, or for a girl, but just plain good!"

"That's great, Parks, but we've got to go." Booth was desperate to get out of that apartment.

"Wait, Dad," Parker refused to be rushed. "You said we could go to the park tomorrow. Dr. Bones?," he turned to Brennan with big pleading eyes, "Can you bring Shadow to the park tomorrow too? Please? At noon? That's when Dad said we were going. Can you guys come so that Shadow and I can play soccer? Please?"

Booth broke in. "I don't think so, Parks. Dr. Brennan-"

"We would love too," Brennan interrupted frantically. "Right, Angie? We'll bring a picnic, since you guys brought us dinner tonight."

"Yesss!" Parker exclaimed.

Brennan grabbed Booth's arm. She couldn't believe what she said to him earlier. He had never spoken to her like that, but then, she had never been deliberately cruel to him before either. He had spoken out of concern, and even though she hadn't appreciated his implications, she shouldn't have lashed out at him like that. When had she become this person who was willing to exploit her best friend's weaknesses? She might as well have thrown his past as a sniper in his face. He had every right to be angry with her, but she couldn't let him stay angry. Not when _they _were still so tenuous. Not when _they_ could be so easily broken.

"Booth," she squeezed his arm, looking him straight in the eye, "we would love to meet you tomorrow." _I'm sorry, please forgive me, please don't stop being my friend, please don't end our partnership, please....._

"Fine," Booth said as he walked out the door. He wouldn't look at her, and she had no way of knowing if he had accepted her silent apology.

**TBC**

**A/N: Ummm...please don't hate me? They have issues that haven't magically disappeared, and they need to deal with them? The last chapter had My Little Pony? Please?**


	10. Interlude: On Pretending

**Author's Note: Please forgive me. I know this isn't the update you want (not to mention the fact that it's super-short). I promise the picnic is up next. On a different note, it's finale night! Here's hoping we won't be disappointed!**

Interlude: On Pretending.

I'm a liar. To do what I do, to be who I am, I would have to be. I'm a good one too. I fool people every day. Hundreds of people regularly place their trust in me. I bet I've had you believing every word I say, which is ridiculous, considering that you are well aware of my _proclivities._ Of course, I suppose it's no more ridiculous for you to accept my word than it is for you to accept anyone else's. We're all liars. We're all pretenders.

We learn it as children. We play 'make believe,' we pretend to be our parents, we imagine we're super heroes. It continues as we become teenagers- we pretend to care about other people, we pretend it doesn't matter what others think of us. By the time we're adults, we've gotten so good at pretending that there's really no such thing as a 'true self' anymore. We walk through life fooling and being fooled.

Well, you do anyway. I do my fair share of pretending, but it's been quite sometime since I've been fooled. I see through your pathetic attempts to convince everyone that you're 'good.' I watch as you try to pretend to be a faithful friend, a confident adult, a competent parent. I see.

No one sees me, though. Not the real me. I wish I could tell you who I am, just to see your reaction. A well-placed smile, a few carefully designed _(yet perfectly ordinary!) _character flaws, a nicely timed joke- these are all it takes to prove to people that you are Just. Like. Them. There's a part of me that dreams of the day I'm discovered, just to witness the moment those around me realize how completely they've been fooled. I'll even let them pretend that the discovery was the result of their own hard work and intelligence. Well, for a moment, that is. All they'll have is a moment.

But that's for later. I need to keep pretending for just a while longer. When the time is right, though, I'll put an end to make believe.


	11. The Allure of a Life Lived Backwards

**Author's Note: So, how about that finale? I have to say, I didn't like it. I'm still sad about it. I feel cheated, because I LOVED the 100th episode. LOVED it. Now, I'm scared for next season. I will soon come out of my depression, though. I'm sure I'll be thrilled about the show again somewhere in the middle of next season. Now, on to my story...**

Chapter 8: The Allure of a Life Lived Backwards

There was a moment, there in the tiny gap between dreams and realities, when she couldn't remember what went wrong. Why didn't she want to open her eyes to face the day? Why had anxiety gripped her from the moment she had begun to awaken?

Of course, it was only a moment. Reality can never be denied for very long, even if you're very good at it...and she was. She calls it compartmentalizing, most people call it lying to yourself. Strange, for someone so obsessed with truth. Well, that's beside the point. The point is, no matter how good you are compartmentalizing _(lying to yourself)_, you're not likely to forget the look on your best friend's face when you finally go too far. You won't forget the horror-filled freedom that accompanies saying the worst possible thing at the worst possible time. You can't deny the relief and the devastation you feel when the one person in the world who has always been so unfailingly and unreasonably _on your side_ finally says exactly what you always expected to hear. Exactly what you always deserved to hear.

And yet...no matter how expected, no matter how deserved, she wants to take it back. She forced him to finally see what she had always believed was the truth of her...that which he had always denied. Last night, she had finally won; except, of course, she had actually lost. For five years she had pushed and pushed, determined to prove to him that she was better off alone, that she was incapable of sustaining meaningful attachments. For five years, he had been immoveable, trying to show her that no matter how hard she pushed, it would never be hard enough. Until last night, when the immoveable object wearily succumbed to the irresistible force.

Once again, she found herself daydreaming about a life lived in reverse, and she wondered when she had become so foolish. She wanted a do-over _(a term remembered from childhood games with neighborhood kids; yes, she had once been a normal little girl, with the childish belief that it was impossible to make a mistake that you couldn't take back)._ Despite her worry, she couldn't help but smile when she remembered that that she might actually get her second chance. They were having a picnic today, and there was no way he'd back out. Booth wouldn't disappoint the children, no matter how little he wanted to see her. She would have a chance to make things right, and she wouldn't waste it. She wondered when she had become so susceptible to hope. She hoped it wouldn't destroy her.

oOo

He'd called her a bitch. _A heartless bitch_, the voice in the back of his mind reminded him. He lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the same thought running through his mind all night long. He was relieved that the sun was finally rising and that he'd soon have the responsibility of caring for his little boy to distract him. He was filled with more self-loathing than he'd thought possible. He'd called her a bitch.

He had been angry at her. He was still angry at her, and he'd had every right to be. What she said was horrible, and he hated her for breaking him. He hated her for finally getting him to say what she had always been convinced he would eventually say. But right now, he hated himself more.

_Bitch._ Believe it or not, he had never used that word- not about Rebecca, not about a suspect. Never. You know who used that word? Who had used it all the time? His father.

His childhood had been a pretty happy one, until right about the age of ten. His dad had always been a little quiet, a little tense, but that wasn't so unusual for men of his generation- stiff upper lip and all. His mother had been positively sunny. Happy all the time, maybe even the slightest bit manic. Until he turned ten. He had long since given up on ever truly understanding what went wrong.

If possible, it happened both slowly and suddenly. Things became a little more tense at home, until eventually it became a place where safety could only be found in silence. At first, his parents fought a war of dirty looks, which eventually became dirty words _('bitch' being his father's favorite)_, which eventually became thrown objects and fists. His mother was home less and less, until one day it was obvious that she didn't actually live there at all. His father stayed, but so did his rage. Seeley was the oldest, and it was his duty to protect his little brother. At night, it was him that would bear the brunt of his father's anger...anger he still couldn't understand. All he knew was that the entire time he would beat him, he would be yelling about his _bitch_ of a mother.

It ended when he was twelve. His father left, and Pops stepped up. His mother came around sometimes, back to her sunny self. Seeley still never really understood, and no one seemed too eager to explain. And that was fine. Really, it was. He didn't need to understand. All he really needed was to be sure that whatever had broken in his father would never break in him.

So he hated her. He hated her for making him use a word he had vowed to never use. He hated her because he knew she didn't actually make him- only men like his father blamed other people for their own actions. He hated her because Parker was so close to ten-years-old, and he was so scared that he wasn't actually made of different stuff than his old man. He hated her because she thought that he was trying to save her, when all along he had been hoping for his own chance at redemption. He hated her, because she always had to be right. Damn the cost.

And now he had to go to a picnic with her. Either that, or disappoint his son. Fantastic.

oOo

Brennan and Angie arrived at the park fifteen minutes early. She wanted to get there before Booth so that she could watch his approach and try to gage his anger. They found a nice spot and smoothed out the well-worn quilt Brennan always kept in the trunk of her car. She and Angie set about carefully laying out the food they had prepared.

"Shadow! Dr. Bones! You're here!" A very excited Parker Booth ran ahead of his father toward the blanket. "Dad said you might not be, but I told him that couldn't be right. You said last night you would be here. You said you'd bring the food. Look, I brought my soccer ball." He proudly displayed the ball under his right arm. "We can play after we eat, okay Shadow. Dad and Dr. Bones are going to be so surprised to see how good you are."

As Parker plopped down beside Angie and continued to chat with her animatedly, seemingly undisturbed by her silence, Brennan watched Booth's approach. He wouldn't look at her, which she decided was a bad sign. However, he had still come, which she determined might logically counteract his lack of eye contact. He took a place on the blanket without ever looking at her.

"Hey there, Shadow. I hear you're going to wow me with your awesome soccer moves," he greeted the girl, careful not to betray his lack of enthusiasm for the outing.

Parker looked between his father and his father's partner with narrow eyes. He could tell that something was really, really wrong. His dad never sat that far from Bones. "Dad, aren't you going to say 'hi' to Dr. Bones too?"

Booth could hear the worry in his little boy's voice, which only served to increase his feelings of guilt. He knew what it was like to be able to sense trouble brewing between grown-ups and to feel responsible for making everything okay. Determined that his son wouldn't feel that for one more second, he forced a smile on his face. "Hey Bones. What do we have here?"

Brennan recognized that they were putting on a show for the kids, so she hoped her own voice didn't sound too sad when she answered, "Hey Booth. Um, we have fresh fruit, and salad, hummus and pita, and fried chicken."

"Fried chicken?," he asked with genuine surprise. He had expected to be force fed seaweed or something. He had already promised Parker that they could go get a real lunch after the picnic.

Parker started laughing and looked at Angie. "Dr. Bones doesn't fry chicken. She says it's unhealthy to eat animals, and she always tries to make us eat rabbit food. Usually after we leave her house, we have to go get real food...except when she makes mac and cheese. That's good. Why are things different today?"

Brennan tried not to be hurt by the boy's honesty. Attempting to make light of the situation _(like a normal person)_, Brennan laughed and answered, "I thought it best not to torture everyone today. I may not eat fried chicken myself, but I did learn to make it as a teenager. I know you like it, and your dad likes it...and I hope Angie likes it." She looked quizzically at the little girl who smiled back at her. "Besides, I brought healthy stuff too, that I hope you'll at least try," she ruffled his curls before looking at the elder Booth. "I guess today, I just thought maybe I could just give everyone what they want, instead of what's good for them."

Parker nodded seriously while biting into a chicken leg. "I think that's a good idea, Dr. Bones."

oOo

The rest of the meal passed in a silence that was broken only occasionally by Parker. Both he and Angie had eaten quickly so that they could get down to the serious business of playing. She and Parker began a series of soccer drills, with Parker sporadically shouting at the adults to "check this out," or "look at her- she's awesome!" Angie would look back at Brennan shyly, waiting for her foster mother's proud smile before allowing her own eyes to sparkle and return to the ball. Eventually, the kids forgot they were showing-off for the adults and became immersed in their own game.

Brennan knew this was her moment, but she found herself unable to speak. She was literally afraid she might vomit if she opened her mouth. She had always been used to Booth making the first move in situations like this; she followed his lead. It was obvious, however, that he had no plans to perpetuate their typical pattern. He stared straight ahead at the kids, his mouth set in a firm line.

Berating herself for her weakness, Brennan sat up straight and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said firmly. "I was wrong last night. I was very, very wrong. I find myself wishing I could go back in time to change things, but that is, as you know, impossible. If it were possible, though, I would do it. If that means anything, which I'm sure it doesn't, since, again, it's impossible. I just thought, maybe, the intention would be meaningful..." Brennan looked at him, but he was still staring straight ahead, as though she had never spoken. She wasn't used to the silent treatment, and she didn't know how to respond. He had always been her guide. "I don't know what to do here Booth. I am unsure of the appropriate response. The things I said were cruel, and I'm never cruel. I don't...please, Booth, you're the one who tells me how to fix things."

Finally, he turned to face her. "It's not fair, Bones. You can't do that. You can't say unforgivable things to me, then ask me how to make it okay."

She blinked back tears. She knew that if she cried, Booth wouldn't be able to resist her. He would hug her and promise that everything was fine, no matter what it cost him. She wouldn't allow that. She would handle this like an adult. She would be honest. "I know," she whispered, "but I honestly don't know what to do. If what I said is unforgivable, where does that leave us? Are we not friends anymore? What about work? Can we work together?"

Booth sighed and resisted the urge to pull her in his arms and tell her that they would always be fine. He was beginning to realize that to do so was unfair to her, as well as to him. It only served to reinforce her belief that he didn't see her, or them, realistically. It gave her the evidence she needed to keep pushing him away. "Look Bones, you weren't the only one who said something unforgivable. I did too, okay. What I said about you, the words I used? They were unforgivable."

She started shaking her head. "No! No, what you said wasn't unforgivable. I admit that I found your words...painful, if not undeserved. But I can forgive you. I forgive you."

Booth smiled sadly. "Bones....you know what? I can forgive you too. I can forgive you anything, but let's just be honest- things like this are going to keep happening. It's my fault, and I'm sorry. I really am. I let you believe that we could go on, unchanged. I let you believe that I could tell you I love you, have you reject me, then continue working together as though nothing had happened."

Brennan was shaking her head again, brow furrowed. "No, no that's inaccurate. You didn't...you didn't say that you love me...that's not what you said."

"Fine, Bones, let's be accurate. That's not what I said. Tell me, if it was, would anything about this moment be different?" His eyes bore into her, as she stared at the ground. That told him all he needed to know. "That's what I thought."

They sat in silence for a moment, both staring off in the direction of the happily playing children. Brennan knew she had to continue the conversation, but she feared where it would lead. The end of their friendship. The dissolution of their partnership. It had been their destination since the night she had confirmed she was only a scientist, never a gambler. Finally, she gave in to the inevitable. "It doesn't matter that we both decided to stay. We aren't partners anymore, are we?"

Booth took a deep breath and turned to stare up at the clouds. This was it. This was his out. The smart thing to do would be to tell her she was right, that they weren't. He could grab his son and leave. He would find someone else eventually. People say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but he knew that was just more ridiculous bullshit. Absence makes the heart forget. D.C. was a big enough city. They could stay there and not run into each other. She would take The Founding Fathers, he would take the diner. She would take Hodgins, he would take Sweets. The only problem with that was that he was still the gambler, and, though something had to give, he wasn't quite ready to fold. He wasn't ready to settle for only milkshakes and baby ducks if there was still a possibility that he could have bugs and beer too.

Never taking his eyes off the clouds, he put his arm around her shoulders. "We're still partners, Bones. I told you we would be. But we're changing, okay? I know it's not fair. I know it wasn't your choice to change, but...I can't just will things to be different. They are what they are, and we need to adjust."

She nodded. "Yes. We need to evolve." She looked up at him. "How do we do that?"

He gave her his first genuine smile of the day. "Oh come on, Bones! Isn't that supposed to be your area of expertise? Evolution, entropy...all of those squinty words that start with an 'E'?"

"Fine," she conceded his point. "Well, if this is an evolution...I suppose we need to determine those things which we can't lose, the characteristics that aid in our survival, and we need to work to keep them. At the same time, we need to let go of those things which are holding us back...except...Booth? It's me that's holding you back. What if we keep stalling when the truth is, I'm what you need to let go?"

He tightened his grip on her shoulder. "Nope. Sorry, Bones, but you just happen to be one of those things that helps me survive. You're a keeper, non-negotiable. I will, however, make a determined and honest effort to move on. No more gambling, Bones. I promise."

She felt a lump form in her throat as she nodded once again. "That's for the best. I will be sensitive to your efforts and will be understanding when the boundaries of our partnership have to tighten in order to accommodate the needs of any new romantic relationship you form."

"I appreciate that. Here's the other thing I need from you. I know you have scars, metaphorical scars, and I know you want to pretend you don't." He placed a finger to her lips to stop her inevitable interruption. "I see you. I have them too. Sometimes, they make me overprotective of you, but you have to get over it. I know you can take care of yourself, but that isn't going to stop me from trying to do it for you on occasion. Just like you do for me. You can't lash out at me for caring about you. It won't work anyway. I'm still here, aren't I? So that has to stop, Bones. You can't go around trying to shoot everyone before they get a chance to outdraw you, okay?"

She met his eyes seriously. "I am not sure that I comprehend all of your metaphorical allusions, but I believe I understand your main points. I agree to them on one condition."

"All right, let's hear it."

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a mocking glare. "If you ever call me a bitch again, I get to kick your ass."

He laughed. "Absolutely. It's a deal." His voice turned serious. "I didn't mean it."

"I know," she said simply. "I see you too."

**TBC**

**Another Author's Note: So I almost didn't post this today. I leave May 30th for three weeks in Vermont (work-related), and I'm not sure I'll have time to write there. I was going to try to bank up a few chapters. The problem is, I've never been very good at holding back. What do you guys think, would you like to see fewer updates over the next week while I stock pile chapters to post while I'm gone, or would you rather have a (possible) 3 week hiatus to this story at the beginning of June?**


	12. The Hint in the Hair

**Author's Note: Thanks for your input on my posting schedule while I'm gone. I'm going to try to save up at least three chapters so that I can post once a week over the next three weeks. No hiatus for this story. :)**

Chapter 9: The Hint in the Hair

It was the Sunday morning before Angie's first day at her new school, and she and Brennan were on their way to the Jeffersonian to resolve the last of Brennan's most pressing worries. The past week had been a good one. Just as she had known she would, Brennan had been able to find acceptable solutions to most of the challenges posed by having Angie in her life. Through a week-long process of trial and error, she had been able to figure out the foods that Angie both liked to eat and needed to eat in order to overcome the problems posed by six years of malnutrition. Brennan had managed to deal with some of Angie's attachment issues by taking a few of her older shirts and cutting out small squares of fabric for the little girl to hold on to whenever they were apart. This allowed Angie to sleep in her own bed (though she had completely co-opted Jasper and Brainy), as well as sit in the backseat of the car without getting upset. The little girl was so small for her age that she still required a booster seat, and Brennan could not compromise in this area as she had on sleeping arrangements. Angie's distress at not being able to sit up front by Brennan is actually what had prompted the fabric square solution. Back at home, there was a small square of one of Brennan's t-shirts laid out beside Angie's new backpack- all ready to accompany the little girl to school in the morning.

As for what she would do after-school until Brennan got off of work, that had actually been pretty easy. She could just attend the Jeffersonian's after-school science program with Max and Parker. If something happened requiring Brennan to work late, Angie could go home with Max. At first, Brennan had been concerned about leaving the child with her less-than-upstanding father, but the three of them had been able to spend some time together over the last week, and her worries had been put to rest. Max had demonstrated for Angie several science experiments involving a soccer ball, which had completely won the girl over. Angie then proceeded to beat Max in three games of cards; Brennan couldn't remember the last time she had seen her father look so proud.

This left her with one major issue to overcome, but a possible solution revealed itself when she spoke with Booth this morning and he mentioned that he would be heading to the Jeffersonian to meet Cam. Apparently he needed to collect the remains of the Saudi plane crash victim from her so that he could oversee their transfer. Brennan hadn't seen him since their picnic, but they had spoken on the phone almost daily. Things between them felt different, but for the first time in a while, it didn't feel as though their every interaction was accompanied by a shadow of sadness. It would be nice to see Booth today, but it was actually a desire to see Cam that brought her to the Jeffersonian. Cam, she hoped, was the answer to her problem.

oOo

"Oh, hey, Dr. B.! Wow, it's good to see you. I didn't think you'd be back until tomorrow," Hodgins greeted her as she walked into the lab. Noticing the little girl, he crouched down to her level and stuck out his hand. "You must be Angie. I've heard a lot about you. My name is Jack, but you can call me Bug Man."

Angie turned warily to Brennan, who also crouched down beside the little girl. "Do you remember Angela?" Angie nodded with a big smile on her face. "Well, this is her husband. I told you about him before- he works here with us analyzing insects and particulates. That's why he said you can call him Bug Man. It's another nickname. Although," Brennan said, turning back to Hodgins, "it's unlikely that Angie will call you anything. For now, she is choosing not to speak."

Hodgins nodded as Angie finally reached out accept his handshake, "Silence. I get it. I like it."

Brennan stood and looked at her friend and colleague questioningly, "What are you doing here on a Sunday? There isn't a case is there? I thought only Cam was needed for the plane crash victim."

Hodgins began to squirm a bit. "Yeah, no, there isn't a case. I was actually hoping to talk to Booth. I heard he was coming in this morning. I...," he ran a hand through his own curls, "I just wanted to have the chance to tell him how happy I am that he's staying...that you're both staying."

Brennan furrowed her brow. "And you couldn't tell him this tomorrow morning during regular work hours?"

Hodgins looked away. "Oh, you know, no time like the present."

Brennan couldn't help but laugh. "Dr. Hodgins you are a very bad liar. Normally, I would continue to question you in search of your actual reason for being here this morning, but I really need to speak to Cam. Is she in her office?"

Relieved that he was being so easily let off the hook, Hodgins answered, "Yes, but I think she's in there with Caroline Julian right now."

"Wait, what's Caroline doing here?" Brennan regularly came into the lab on Sundays, but she was almost always the only person there. She found it confusing that so many people were suddenly willing to work on the weekend.

"I think she also heard that Cam was coming in and wanted to go over her testimony in the Ramirez case for tomorrow."

Brennan squinted her eyes, trying to recall any details of that particular case.

"Don't worry Dr. B.," Hodgins assured her. "You weren't involved in that one- too fleshy."

"Oh, okay. Well, I'll just check and see if Cam has time to talk to me when she's done with Caroline. Actually, Caroline could also be helpful." She and Angie turned toward Cam's office.

"Nice to meet you, Angie," Hodgins called. "Soon, I'll teach you to race beetles- you'll love it." He laughed to himself when the little girl turned back to give him a wide-eyed stare.

oOo

Brennan knocked on the door to Cam's office and was invited in. "Hello, Cam, Ms. Julian. I know you're going over testimony, and I don't want to interrupt. I was hoping, though, that I might be able to talk with you afterward."

"Don't mind me, _cherie,_ I was just about to leave." Caroline started to the door, but stopped abruptly when she spotted Angie. Pointing at the little girl, she turned to Brennan. "Wait a minute- what's that?"

Brennan was perplexed. "What's what?"

"That," Caroline responded, pointing once again. "The small human attached to your side."

Brennan turned to Cam, trying to ascertain whether or not Caroline Julian had lost her mind. "Umm, that's Angie," she responded slowly.

Cam stifled a laugh. "Ms. Julian, if I'm not mistaken, this is Dr. Brennan's foster daughter." She turned to smile and wave to the little girl. "Hi Angie, you can call me Auntie Cam."

Brennan jumped in, "As I was just explaining to Hodgins, it is unlikely that she will call you anything. Angie doesn't speak."

"Wait," Caroline asked, "is she deaf?"

"No, Ms. Julian," Brennan responded. "Tests, as well as my personal experiences with Angie, indicate that that she does not suffer from hearing loss. It appears that she simply does not wish to communicate verbally at this time."

"Uh, huh," Caroline said skeptically. "Of course. Well, don't the two of you make quite a pair. So, a foster daughter? I take it that's why you're here with us this fine Sunday morning, instead of off playing Tarzan and Jane on some tropical island in the Pacific?"

"I don't underst-," Brennan began, but Cam interrupted.

"Never mind. Dr. Brennan, you needed my help with something?"

"Yes. Actually, Ms. Julian, if you have time, I could benefit from your input as well, since you are also an African American."

Caroline put her hands on her hips, as Cam pursed her lips in an attempt not to laugh. "That is true, Dr. Brennan. Now, tell me, how can we African Americans help you today?"

Brennan lifted Angie up and thrusts her toward the other women. "It's her hair. I have no idea what to do with it. I've just kept it in these pigtails, but they don't really look right. She cries every time I even pick up a comb, and I have no idea how often to wash it, or what to use when I do. I have read several anthropological studies that examine the significance of hair in African American culture, particularly among females. I am worried that unless I learn how to appropriately care for her hair, Angie will be ostracized by her peers, and I will be judged by the other mothers."

At this point, Cam lost her battle with laughter. The look on Dr. Brennan's normally oh-so-composed face was both hilarious and sweet.

Caroline, too, couldn't help but laugh. "Well, you've got one thing right, _cherie._ We definitely need to figure out how to keep that baby's hair from looking like a hot mess. She's going to need all the help she can get with the kids on the playground, seeing as how she's choosing to live like a mime."

"And you will be judged by other mothers," Cam confirmed, composing herself. "That part is true."

"So," Brennan said, looking from the child in her arms to the other two women, "can you help us?"

oOo

Booth burst into the lab at his typical fast pace. He was more than a little annoyed that he'd had to cut short his day with his son in order to placate a diplomat's family. While he was certainly sorry for their loss, he knew that it was unnecessary for the remains to have an FBI escort to the airport. He was a Special Agent, for god's sake, not some rookie whose time should be wasted providing influential families with special treatment.

He was so focused on getting the remains and getting this whole errand over with that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Hodgins came out of nowhere and grabbed his arm. "Hodgins, I've got to tell you, that's a good way to get yourself shot."

"Sorry, man, I'm just accustomed to you being hyper-aware of your surroundings. I didn't mean to take you by surprise."

Booth relaxed. "It's not a problem. I'm just irritated that I had to take Parker home right after mass instead of spending the rest of the afternoon with him. Is Cam in her office? Does she have the remains ready?"

"Yeah, I think so, but she's actually in with Caroline and Brennan right now."

"Bones is here? And Caroline? Why? Is something wrong?" Booth was visibly worried.

"I don't think so, man," Hodgins rushed to reassure him. "Caroline is here about the Ramirez case, and I think Dr. B. is here about something to do with Angie. Cute kid, by the way."

"She really is," Booth agreed. "Look, I hate to rush, but I'm going to interrupt them. I really just want to get this done."

"Oh, you don't want to do that," Hodgins tried to stall. "You know how women are when they're chatting." Booth eyed him suspiciously, so Hodgins changed tactics. "Why don't we catch up? I mean, you're sticking around D.C., that's big news. Personally, I'm pretty thrilled that I won't have to break in a new agent or anthropologist. I was definitely not looking forward to that. Although, I did pick up the tab for the going away party, so I'm not quite sure how I feel-"

"Hodgins," Booth interrupted, "you're rambling...and you're acting noticeably weird, even for you. Why don't you just tell me what's really going on, so we can move this little show along, okay?"

"Fine," Hodgins said, trying to build up his courage, "but you're not going to like it."

Booth rubbed his temples. "What am I not going to like? No more stalling."

"It's the Gravedigger case, Booth. There's something about it that's off."

"Stop, Hodgins." Booth held up a hand. "Just stop right there. The case is over. Heather Taffett is in prison where she belongs, and where she will remain for the rest of her life. Look, man," Booth placed his hand on the scientist's shoulder, "I know the trial was hard on you. It was hard on all of us. But we won, okay? It's over. Just let it be over."

"But what if it's not over?," Hodgins asked fiercely. "What if we missed something important?" This time it was Hodgins' turn to told up his hand and stop Booth's interruption. "Just hear me out, okay? Give me five minutes. If you think it's not worth pursuing after you've heard my explanation, I'll never mention it to you again."

Booth looked from his friend's pleading eyes to Cam's tightly closed door and sighed. "You've got five minutes, but I want you to remember that you are a scientist, not a cop. Scientists don't investigate crimes. I have really let you people run amok."

Ignoring Booth's irritation, Hodgins began to present the arguments that had been haunting him for months. "First of all, something changed at the point at which Dr. B. and I were kidnapped. Until then, Heather Taffett had kidnapped people she could physically best- typically children. While it is extraordinarily unlikely that she could have abducted both Dr. Brennan and I from the highly secure Jeffersonian parking structure, then buried us in that car all on her own, you have to concede that it is inconceivable that she was able to carry you down a fire escape alone. You would have been dead weight, and her ribs were broken. Come on, man, there's no way! The suspension of disbelief required for this is scenario is too great."

"Hodgins," Booth interrupted wearily, "we've been over this before-"

"I know, I know," Hodgins broke in, "but I'm not finished. There are other things that have been bothering me too. She was always a step ahead of us. She always knew our next move."

"Yeah, because she was in the federal attorney's office. She had access to the investigation."

"Which made sense before she was arrested," Hodgins voice rose passionately, "but even during the trial, she just knew too much. How did she know to have an FBI analyst work on that voice recording? How did she know to make the voice sound like Angela's? It would make sense, though, if there was someone in the FBI feeding her information about our investigation."

"Or someone at the federal attorney's office. Or someone at the Jeffersonian- need I remind you of the whole Zach fiasco? Or it could just be evidence disclosure. I'm sorry, man," Booth's tone was sympathetic, "but I think you're reaching here. You're trying to make something out of nothing."

"Wait, there's one last thing. I've been reviewing all of the evidence taken from the storage locker- I know it's inadmissible," Hodgins responded to Booth's exasperated glare, "but that's not the point. I found something on one of the shovels in the locker." He held up a plastic evidence bag. "It's a female hair, black and curly. It's definitely not Taffett's, and it doesn't belong to any of the victims."

"Hodgins, that proves nothing. It could be an employee at the storage facility, it could belong to one of the agents who searched the locker. This is in no way proof of an accomplice. Besides, don't you think that if Heather Taffett had an accomplice, she would have brought him or her down with her? I don't think she's exactly the self-sacrificing type."

Hodgins met Booth's eye seriously. "Unless Taffett needs someone on the outside to finish what she started. Did you see the way she looked at Brennan? Did you hear her tone of voice when she promised that this isn't over? If I'm right, and there is an accomplice, it's very likely that Dr. Brennan is his or her primary target." He went in for the kill. "Booth, are you willing to gamble her life on your belief that I'm wrong?"

Booth's blood ran cold. Memories of the time Bones was held by the Gravedigger flashed through his mind. The visual of the clock counting down, the desperation he felt as he searched the vast desert landscape for some sign of life. He'd promised her- no more gambling. "Fine, Hodgins, but this stays between us for now. What do you need from me?"

Hodgins gave him a nod of respect. "Just access to the FBI databases. I just want to figure out who this hair belongs to. We can go from there."

oOo

An hour and a half after they stepped in to Cam's office, Brennan and Angie reemerged. Angie's hair was done in tiny twists that Caroline had assured her would result in adorable kinky curls for next week. Brennan was loaded down with a list of supplies ranging from silk pillowcases to coconut oil, as well as the name of Cam's hairdresser and step-by-step instructions for some kid-friendly hair styles.

Spotting Booth on the platform with Hodgins, Angie began waving frantically and looking around, presumably for Parker.

"Shadow! How's my favorite first-grade soccer phenom?" Booth's cheerful tone seemed a bit forced, a fact that did not escape Brennan's notice as she climbed the platform to greet him.

"We are doing well, now that I have been taught the intricacies of styling African American hair. I think Angie is looking for Parker."

Booth gave the little girl a sympathetic frown. "Sorry, kiddo. I had to take Parker back to his mom this morning. He'll see you at school, tomorrow, though. Your hair looks great."

Angie smiled shyly, while Brennan looked from a fidgety Hodgins to partner. "So, what are the two of you up to?," she asked suspiciously.

"Oh, Bones, you know, the usual. Bugs...slime..good times. Wow, speaking of time, would you look at the hour? I have really got to get those remains and get going." He headed quickly off the platform. "See you in the morning Bones! Have a good day at school, Shadow!"

Brennan and Angie watched as he disappeared into Cam's office. Brennan turned to Hodgins for answers, but he ignored her, waggling his eyebrows at Angie.

"What do you say, kid? Ready to meet those beetles?"

**TBC**

**Author's Note: Special thanks to good friends Tajah and Erica for the much-needed insight into African American hair. I loved your hilarious stories of childhoods spent in fear of combs and too-tight cornrows. Y'all are the best.**


	13. Letting Go and Other Improbabilities

**Author's Note: So, this is my last update before I head off to Vermont. For the next three weeks, there will be only one update per week, probably on Wednesdays. Thanks for all the reviews and alerts!**

Chapter 10: Letting Go and Other Improbabilities

Pacing in front of the small child perched anxiously on the edge of her sofa, Brennan reviewed the checklist in her hands for the final time. "Okay, Angie- Backpack."

The little girl held up her brand new pink school bag, then unzipped it.

Brennan nodded approvingly. "Next, folders, followed by paper and your pencil pouch." Angie held up the items one by one so that Brennan could check them off. Once they had gotten through all of her new school supplies, along with her lunch box and the scrap of Brennan's t-shirt, Angie sank into the couch cushions.

Brennan put down her list and knelt in front of the girl, taking her hand. "As we discussed, Angie, I will take you to school each morning, but you will ride the bus to the Jeffersonian each afternoon. Parker will be on the same bus, so if you get confused, just get off at the same time he does, okay?" Angie nodded, biting her lower lip. "Now, I know that you and Parker have become friends, but it is possible that he won't want to sit with you on the bus. Try not to take this personally. It is entirely logical that he would already have other friends with whom he might be committed to sitting. Also, boys his age typically do not interact with females, choosing instead to find friends among those of their own gender. Understood?" Again, Angie nodded.

Brennan found herself inexplicably nervous for her foster daughter. Remembering her own school days, she cringed. "You know, don't worry too much if the other children in general choose not to interact with you. School children tend to organize themselves into social hierarchies at the beginning of the year. Because you are entering the group at the end of the year, it would be natural for you to have some difficulty finding acceptance from the group. During class time, this shouldn't make a difference, as you will be focused on your studies. Lunch and recess might prove disheartening, but I have found that these situations can provide excellent opportunities for scientific observation. If you are outdoors, there are plenty of insects and rodents to study. If not, you can always watch the interaction between the other children in order to ascertain their social norms... Um,... or you can swing. That is an activity that is amusing, but can be done alone. If I recall, you need to be quick if you want a swing, as there are often too few of them to accommodate the number of children who wish to play on them."

Angie looked as worried as Brennan felt, so she squeezed the child's hand. Always practical, Brennan reassured her, "We'll leave now so that we can get to the school early enough to inspect the playground and help you formulate a strategy for quickly reaching a swing."

oOo

True to her word, Brennan arrived at school twenty minutes before the opening bell. Taking in the equipment, Brennan showed Angie the most efficient routes to the swings, and she pointed out spots on the playground that would provide the best vantage points for observations. Then, they toured each individual apparatus, so that Brennan could educate Angie on there relative safety and let her know the types of breaks she was likely to sustain should she fall off of them. It was decided that the climbing igloo was fine, but that the little girl might want to wait until she had increased her upper body strength before attempting the monkey bars.

Finally, other children began to arrive, and they knew it was time to go in. Holding hands, they took identical deep breaths and stepped through the doors. The first stop was the office, in which Brennan was required to fill out an extraordinary amount of redundant paperwork. The secretary did not seem very receptive of her suggestion that the school digitize and consolidate their forms. They were given the name and room number of Angie's teacher and were on their way to meet her, when Brennan saw a familiar face entering the office.

"Rebecca?," she acknowledged the blond woman. "I'm not sure if you remember me, I'm Temperance Brennan. Booth's partner?"

"Dr. Brennan," Rebecca said with a smile. "Of course I remember you. And this must be Shadow- which I'm sure is not her actual name, but my son seems to inherited his father's fondness for nicknames."

Brennan laughed. "Yes, it would seem that way. Though, it's not really unusual for boys Parker's age to model their behavior on their fathers... but, yes, Shadow is not her real name. This is Angie."

Rebecca waved to the little girl. "Hi Angie. Parker has told me all about you. He says you're going to be quite the soccer star."

"That is very kind of Parker. Although, the percentage of people who actually become star athletes is very slim, so it is unlikely." Seeing Rebecca's amused expression, Brennan attempted to correct whatever faux pas she had made by quickly adding, "But is not, of course, impossible." Her attempt only seemed to cause the other woman's smile to widen, so she decided to change the subject. "I thought Parker usually rode the bus to school, so I am surprised to see you here."

"He does." Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Of course, it's the first day back after Spring Break, so he was moving twice as slow as usual and ended up needing to be driven. Then, he proceeds to leave his backpack in the car," she held up the deep blue bag. "You know how it goes." Taking in Brennan's blank look, she amended, "Well, you will. It was good to see you again Dr. Brennan. Angie, I look forward to getting to know you better. Enjoy your first day."

With another smile at Parker's mother, Brennan and Angie went in search of the first grade hall. Finally finding the room number they had been given above a door decorated with smiling stars _(which they both looked upon with disdain), _Brennan grabbed Angie into an awkward hug. "You'll be great," she said, feeling as though she were trying to convince herself as much as the little girl.

Angie must have felt the same way, because she patted Brennan's cheek with a sympathetic look on her face.

oOo

Back at the lab, the day moved slowly. At first, Brennan tried to immerse herself in the remains in bone storage, but quickly realized that anything requiring intense concentration was out of the question. She was more than a little disturbed by her inability to put aside her anxiety and focus on work. Eventually, she decided that the rational thing to do was to accept that she would be understandably nervous today and to rearrange her schedule accordingly. Deciding that catching up on email and brainstorming ideas for her next book were the most productive ways to spend her time considering her current state of mind, Brennan closed herself up in her office.

At exactly 1:47, she heard a familiar knock on her office door. "Come in," she called, smiling to greet her partner. "I wasn't expecting you today. We don't have a case already, do we?" Brennan was happy, but genuinely surprised to see Booth. Were things as they had been _before_, she would have been more surprised had he not stopped by the Jeffersonian at some point in the day. Now that they had both come to terms with the fact that things were changing, she had assumed that seeing him daily was one of the things she was going to have to sacrifice in order to preserve their partnership.

Visiting the Jeffersonian hadn't really been part of his plan for the day. He'd decided that the only way to keep his promise to move on was to treat Bones like an addiction...though more like a caffeine addiction than his gambling addiction. She wasn't something he wanted to quit cold turkey, nor did he ever want her out of his life completely. He just wanted to find a way to not _need_ her so much. He had concocted a little plan to wean himself off Bones- last week he was allowed to talk to her daily, but not see her; this week he had meant to implement phase two- only talking to her when he at least had the pretense of something case-related to discuss as well. They were going to be normal friends and partners, not each other's be all and end all. Technically, he was sticking to the plan. He really had come here to talk about a case, and the conversation he just had with Hodgins confirmed that his vacation was over.

"Hey, Bones. We don't exactly have a new case, but there's something I really needed to discuss with you...," he trailed off, noticing the distracted look on his partner's face and the anxious way she kept twisting her hands. "Is everything okay?"

Knowing it was futile to lie to Booth, she admitted, "It's Angie's first day at her new school. I'm concerned that she might not fit in with the other children, or that the teacher might mistake her silence for a lack of intelligence. Although, in my opinion, the teacher is hardly one to judge. She had pictures of multicolored stars all over her door, and they were all smiling. Why would she want to expose the children she is charged with educating to such inaccurate images?"

Booth felt an overwhelming wave of affection wash over him, as he realized for the umpteenth time how truly uninterested he was in moving on. It was a testimony to how much he loved her, his willingness to do something that felt so wrong just to please her. "Aw, Bones, it's completely normal to worry. Trust me, though, Shadow's going to be fine. She's a lovable kid. I wouldn't worry about the teacher either; I'm sure the stars are just there to make the children comfortable. They like things that smile. I don't think it will do any permanent damage to their intellect." He took in her still-furrowed brow. "You're not convinced are you?"

"No, Booth," she shook her head, "and I find it very disconcerting. I cannot afford to have days as unproductive as this one."

"Bones," he spoke to her seriously, "Shadow will be just fine. I bet she'll end up with a ton of new friends at the end of the day. Look how quickly Parker took to her."

"Parker's special. He's intuitive and uncommonly kind for a child his age. It's like I told Rebecca, he models his behavior after you. He is not the standard by which I can accurately predict the behavior of other children."

Booth gave her his biggest smile and decided that operation 'let go of Bones' would have to be suspended for the day. "That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. You are also uncommonly kind, you know that?" Seeing the smile he received in return, he made a decision. "You know what you need? Lunch. You haven't eaten all day, I can tell. By the time we get back, school will be over, and you will see that I was right about Angie."

"But didn't you have something to discuss with me?"

"Yep," he said, pulling her out of her chair and putting a hand at the small of her back to guide her out the door, "but we can talk about it at the diner."

oOo

By the time they were halfway through their meal, Brennan was decidedly more relaxed, and Booth was stalling. He knew that the information he had to share was going to bring with it a whole new set of worries, and he just didn't want to do that to her right now. She'd had a hard time with Heather Taffett's trial. Hell, that was what had started her down the path to Indonesia.

He was pulled from his musings by the chiding voice of his partner. "Booth, are you going to continue carrying on this internal debate you seem to be having, or are you just going to go ahead and tell me what's been going on with you and Hodgins?"

"Bones, wow, you're becoming pretty good at reading people."

"I'm a very quick learner," she agreed, without an ounce of modesty. "Now, stop stalling. What is it?"

"Well, you know that Hodgins has never been entirely comfortable with the outcome of the Gravedigger case, right?"

"Yes," she agreed. "Dr. Hodgins does not believe it is possible for Heather Taffett to have acted alone. You told him that the simplest explanation was usually the correct one and that he should stop trying to turn everything into a conspiracy. Booth, are you trying to tell me that you've changed your mind?"

"Yeah, Bones," Booth said wearily. "Maybe."

"Do you have any evidence, or are you listening to your intestines again?"

He laughed at her attempt at humor. "Hodgins found a hair on a shovel in Taffett's storage locker. It's not hers, and it's not any of our victims'. We ran it through the FBI database, and we were able to match it to a Jane Doe found strangled to death right around the same time I was kidnapped."

Brennan took a minute to consider his words. "I suppose I don't understand what this means. So, are you saying that this Jane Doe was another of Taffett's victims? While the presence of this hair is an anomaly, I don't see how it in anyway confirms Hodgins' hypothesis that Taffett had help."

"It doesn't, Bones, not necessarily. I'm pretty confident, though, that our Jane Doe wasn't killed by Taffett. The woman was likely prostitute- she doesn't fit the Gravedigger victimology at all. What concerns me, is that I can't think of any way for Heather Taffett to have come into contact with the Jane Doe, which would indicate that someone else- someone who _had_ come into contact with this new victim- has also been in that storage locker. It may be nothing, but I think it's worth looking into."

"Okay," Brennan nodded. "What do you need me to do?"

"I'm going to have the Jane Doe's remains brought to the Jeffersonian. I want you to learn as much as you can about her- anything that might help us understand how her hair came to be among Taffett's things."

"I can do that," she agreed with confidence.

"And I need you to be careful, Bones," he looked at her intensely. "I mean it, you see anything out of the ordinary, you call me, understood?"

Brennan nodded curtly as silence engulfed them once again.

Desperate to bring lighten the mood, Booth looked at his watch. "Hey, would you look at that? School's letting out. Bones, if we leave now, we could spy on Angie as she gets off the bus- make sure she doesn't look upset."

Smiling at him conspiratorially, Brennan, threw down some bills to cover the meal and headed for the sidewalk. Booth challenged her to a race to the Jeffersonian and was surprised when she agreed. Sweaty and out of breath, they reached the side entrance to the museum, just in time to see the big yellow school bus pull up to the curb. The pair made a show of hiding behind a tree to watch as the children exited the bus.

"We can't make a habit of this, Bones, okay? It's a little creepy." Booth was hoping to make her laugh, as she was back to nervously wringing her hands. She was too focused on spotting Angie to listen to him.

Finally, the little girl emerged, and she wasn't alone. No, right beside her was Parker Booth, hand on the small of her back, guiding her into the Jeffersonian. Brennan looked back at her partner, who was watching proudly. "We don't have spy anymore, Booth. She'll be fine."

**TBC**


	14. Interlude: On Strangulation

Interlude: On Strangulation

I suppose it would be foolish to ask if you've ever strangled someone. It is highly unlikely, and, even if you had, I'm sure you wouldn't admit it. It's not the kind of thing you broadcast to the world. No, it's the kind of thing you keep to yourself. It's yours and yours alone- forgotten during the day, retrieved and relived each night; savored until it's gone, and you have to do it again.

Are you still watching those crime shows? Didn't I tell you to stop, that they fill your little head with all sorts of inaccuracies? For instance, they make strangulation look easy, when I can assure you, it's not. Do you have any idea how much force it takes to cut off the air supply? Do you know how long it takes them to die? I don't either. I'm not exactly looking at my watch while I do it. It feels like a long time, though.

On crime shows, the victim is often choked while lying on the floor. The one doing the choking is on top, allowing for a bunch of artistic camera angles, interspersing the faces of the hunter and the hunted. That's one way to go. I prefer to catch my prey from behind, by surprise. You can still watch, and, when the moment finally comes for them to take their final, desperate breath, you can be assured that their last thoughts will be frozen across their faces for all time. No need for artistic camera angles.

Anyway, I tell you all of this to let you know that strangulation is my first love, my preferred method. Remember my partner (_temporary, only for convenience_)? The sociopath? I told you she fears me. This is why. She knows I could get to her. She knows I could take her by surprise. She knows I could strangle the life out of her at any moment. She needed elaborate plans, she wanted to make a spectacle. It was hubris, and it got her caught. I don't need any of that. I can do my work whenever the mood strikes, whenever the opportunity to presents itself.

Yes, strangulation is my first love. I helped her. I like surprises. I can still get to her. I'm smart. I'm a liar. I don't like crime shows. I'm _here._ You see, don't you? That I'm trying to play fair with you? That I'm trying to give you every opportunity to put it all together? That I'm trying to prepare you? I'm part of this story, too. I am the story, even if you don't see it yet. Don't say you haven't been warned.


	15. Bullies & Things That Go Bump In the Nig

**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed or added the story to your alerts and favorites. A special apology goes out to MM Vermelha: I really did try to find time to update again last week, but practically every minute of my day here in Vermont is scheduled; asking in 2 languages really did help, though! **

Chapter 11: Bullies and Things that Go Bump in the Night

It had taken over a week to get the Jane Doe's remains delivered to the Jeffersonian. The year-old murder of an unidentified prostitute simply didn't provide adequate motivation to circumvent cumbersome bureaucratic procedures. Brennan, whose ability to focus at work had been restored by Angie's uneventful first week of school, had been closely examining the remains all morning, hoping to have some information to share with Booth by the afternoon.

Experiencing the now all-too-familiar sensation of having someone look over her shoulder, she turned to give Hodgins the evil eye. It was the fourth time in the last hour that he had wandered over to the platform to watch her, anxiously hoping for some sort of breakthrough. If it happened a fifth time, Brennan feared that she might resort to physical violence. She opened her mouth to tell him as much, but changed her mind when she took in the anxious expression on his face. Wordlessly, she marched past him, off the platform and into Angela's office.

"Angela, I need you to do something about your husband," she announced. Seeing that Cam was also in the room getting a tutorial on one of Angela's new computer programs, she added, "Hello, Cam. I would also settle for you doing something about Hodgins."

"Well, thank you for that, Dr. Brennan," Cam answered wryly, exchanging an amused glance with the artist. "Why don't you start by letting us know exactly why something needs to be done?"

"He is obviously quite interested in my findings regarding the Jane Doe whose hair was matched to the one found in Taffett's storage locker. I understand his preoccupation, but I find it extremely distracting." She turned to her best friend. "Please, Angela, take him to lunch, take him to a storage closet for sexual intercourse, do whatever you have to do, but please get him to leave me alone for an hour."

Angela started laughing, but Cam interrupted. "Okay, as the person in charge, I'm going to go ahead and veto the storage closet, if you don't mind. Why don't I go see if I can engage Dr. Hodgins in some actual work?"

Brennan shook her head. "It has to be out of the lab. If he's here, he's staring at me. I have observed his pattern. It starts with occasional glances, then he stares, then he starts edging closer to the table, and it ends with him completely invading my personal space." She gave Angela an apologetic look. "I'm not sure how much longer I can resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs."

Angela looked thoughtfully toward the platform. "I'm sorry guys. It's just...you know how much the Gravedigger stuff affected him. When his accomplice idea was brushed off as just another of his conspiracy theories, he was able to cope. Now that Booth is taking it seriously enough to investigate, well...it's just bringing everything back."

"I know, Ange. I'm trying to get him answers, but I have to stay objective. I have to treat this like any other case."

"That's it," Cam declared. "I'm making an executive decision. Follow me, people." She lead Brennan and Angela back out to the platform, where Hodgins was pacing in front of the remains. "Dr. Hodgins," she smiled brightly, "Dr. Brennan and I were just discussing the fact that you and Angela didn't take a honeymoon. I know you have some plans for a trip in the future, but you didn't even take a day off to just be together." She put her arms on the shoulders of the newlyweds. "We find that unacceptable, so we're demanding that you go home right now and spend at least the next two days enjoying each other's company. Consider it a gift from the Jeffersonian."

Dr. Hodgins gave his boss a suspicious look that let her know he wasn't buying it. "Aren't there things we need to do here? I mean with everything going on, surely this isn't the best time for both of us to be out of the lab? Dr. Brennan?" He turned to the other woman questioningly.

Uncertain of exactly what she should say, Brennan answered honestly, "I think now would be an excellent time for you to be out of the lab. Since you are so completely unable to focus on work, maybe you can focus on Angela instead," she gestured toward her friend with a smile, hoping her words were sufficient.

Angela gave her husband a sympathetic look, as he shot Brennan a glare and mumbled, "Thanks a lot, Brutus."

Brennan's face lit up. "A Julius Caesar reference- I get that one!" Seeing the dejected slump of Hodgins' shoulders, she sobered and walked over to squeeze his hand. "It's okay to need a break, Hodgins. If it weren't for your diligence in this case, we wouldn't be working on this at all. You've done well. You deserve to relax. I'll call you with my findings- I promise."

Reluctantly, Hodgins nodded and began gathering his things. Angela gave both Brennan and Cam a brief hug and mouthed, "Thank you."

oOo

With no further distractions, Brennan was able to efficiently gather data from the remains. By the time Booth came by after lunch, she and Cam were able to give him quite a bit of information.

"First of all, Seeley," Cam started, "I was able to find out her name- Rose Allen. You'd think Metro Police, would have been able to manage matching up dental records. She was a known prostitute with several misdemeanor offenses, no family."

"Well, _Camille,_" Booth smiled, "good work." He turned to his partner, "What about you Bones? Find anything that might link Ms. Allen here to Heather Taffett?"

"Sorry, Booth, but nothing I've discovered points to an obvious connection. Rose Allen was twenty-nine-years-old when she died. From the number times her arms and wrists have been broken, healed and re-broken, I feel confident in stating that she was abused as a child and that the abuse carried over into her adult life. She has multiple stress fractures from wearing poorly constructed high heals. Her bones are brittle from years of drug use. Everything indicates that she spent her entire life on the fringes of society. I can also tell you that whoever strangled her, didn't do it with his or her hands. The murder was committed with a thick wire of some type. I have Wendell going through implements that could possibly match the murder weapon. That's all I've been able to find."

"Okay, Bones, that gives us something to go on. I'll start looking through other unsolved cases, see if we can find any similarities. Maybe if we can figure out who killed Rose Allen, we will get some insight into how her hair ended up among Heather Taffett's things. I've been thinking that maybe-" He was interrupted by the sound of both his and Brennan's phones ringing simultaneously.

"Hm," Cam looked between the two, "I feel left out." She watched as the looks on both Booth's and Brennan's faces transformed from focused to surprised to something resembling anger. As they barked a simultaneous "I'll be right there" and exited the lab without an explanation or a goodbye, Cam wondered how it was she so often ended up feeling superfluous in her own lab. "You kids have fun," she called to no one. "Don't worry about explaining where you're going, okay?"

oOo

Brennan and Booth walked together through the doors of Stoddert Elementary School and into the main office. They were directed to a small conference room and asked to wait. Almost immediately they were joined by a drab-looking woman who introduced herself as the school's guidance counselor.

"Mr. Booth, Ms. Brennan, thank you for coming in."

"Dr. Brennan," Temperance corrected. "This is Agent Booth, and I am Dr. Brennan."

The guidance counselor forced a smile and continued, "Yes, well, _Dr._ Brennan, as I was saying we appreciate you coming in. Like I explained over the phone, there was a little skirmish on the playground today and both Angie and Parker were involved."

"Yes, can you explain what happened? Have you completed your investigation?"

Booth laughed, "Bones, it was playground fight, not a homicide. I doubt an _investigation_ was necessary."

Brennan clearly disagreed. "While this obviously wasn't a serious incident, that doesn't mean that the school shouldn't make every attempt to ascertain the truth. Children are known liars, Booth, so it wouldn't be surprising for some of the participants to invent a version of the events to make themselves look better. Since Angie doesn't speak, I don't think I'm being unreasonable to worry that she might become a scapegoat. She is in my care, and I need to-"

It was clear to the guidance counselor that the _agent_ and the _doctor_ knew each other very well and that she was quickly losing their attention. Deciding that they were most likely just getting started, she interjected, "I'm sorry, but may I interrupt? I can assure you that no one is being scapegoated. We talked to all of the participants in the incident, as well as some other children who witnessed it. It's clear that neither Parker nor Angie was the initial aggressor. Apparently, the kids were playing soccer at recess, and one of the boys said something unkind about Angie. This upset Parker, who kicked the soccer at the boy with a great deal of force. It didn't hit him, but it made him very angry. He grabbed Parker and put him in a headlock, which prompted Angie to start kicking the boy until he let go. She's tiny and couldn't really hurt him, but it annoyed him, so he let go of Parker to push her down. This, in turn, angered Parker, who punched the other boy. That was when the teacher reached them and broke it all up."

The guidance counselor was met with silence, which surprised her, as the two had seemed so talkative before. Her eyes moved between them both. The agent was working his jaw, and the doctor was biting the inside of her cheeks.

Booth leaned over to Brennan and whispered without looking at her, "Are you trying not to laugh?"

Closing her eyes and fighting back a smile, Brennan answered with a nod.

Knowing that he was having an easier time controlling himself than his partner, Booth addressed the counselor, "I think I speak for both of us when I tell you how sorry we are this happened. Where do we go from here? Are the kids being suspended?"

"Agent Booth, between you and me," the woman answered conspiratorially, "the other little boy is a known bully- always causing trouble and picking on the smaller kids. He's been suspended pending a behavior conference with his parents. Parker has never been any trouble, and Angie is new. While there is never any excuse for violence, it's clear that they were simply acting in defense of each other. We've decided that keeping them in from recess for the rest of the week is punishment enough."

Having composed herself, Brennan finally spoke up, "While I am very grateful to be kept informed about incidents at school, I don't understand why we had to come down here if the school has already handled the punishment. Why couldn't you just have explained all of this over the phone?"

"I apologize," the counselor replied. "I should have been more clear, but it seemed you were anxious for an explanation of the incident. No, I didn't need you to pick up the children because they're suspended. It's just that Angie has been completely inconsolable since it happened, and Parker won't leave her. We made sure that she wasn't hurt, and we've tried to explain that she isn't in serious trouble, but we can't calm her down. Since it's close to the end of the day anyway, we thought it might just be best to send them both home."

Brennan looked at the woman like she was a moron. "Then where is she? Why do you have me in this little room, if Angie is somewhere hysterical? Bring her to me!"

Booth put his hand over his partner's as he noted the somewhat panicked rise in her voice. He tried to appease the offended looking counselor. "Perhaps you could just send the kids in so that we can calm them down?"

With a smile for Booth and a smirk for Brennan, she left the room to retrieve the children. Within a matter of seconds the door burst open, ushering in an agitated Parker and a sobbing, shaking Angie.

"Dad," Parker started speaking loudly before he'd even fully entered the room, "I wanted Shadow to play soccer with us to show the other kids how good she is, 'cause usually she just swings by herself. She was really, really good, just like I said she would be, so Jack and Andrew started saying that she should take Owen's place on our team," the little boy continued quickly before anyone else could get a word in. He stood protectively between Angie and the adults, wanting to explain before anyone had a chance to get mad at her for fighting. "Owen's a bully. He's so mean to everyone, and Shadow really was better than him. He got jealous, so he started saying really mean things to her, calling her names and saying that she didn't have parents and saying that she was ugly. He kept running up and yelling in her face, but she didn't do anything back. She just stood there, and she's just a little kid, you know? So I kicked the ball at Owen to try to make him leave her alone. I wasn't even trying to hit him, honest. But then he got mad, and he put me in a headlock. I would have been fine, but I don't think Shadow knew that, so she tried to kick him and make him stop. Then, Dad, he PUSHED her. He PUSHED her down, and she's only a FIRST GRADER! And she's a girl! So, that made me mad, so I punched him, and I did mean to hit him that time, and I KNOW you say never to hit, but he PUSHED her, and she was CRYING! She's still crying, so I think he must have really hurt her. I tried to tell Ms. Simpson," he glared back at the guidance counselor, "that Shadow must be really hurt to keep crying like this, but she says that they've checked her out and she's not hurt, but I know that sometimes people get hurt and you can't see it on the outside, so it's good you're here, Dr. Bones. You can check her out, because you know more about getting hurt than Ms. Simpson. But you can't get mad at her for fighting, okay? Because she was just trying to help...and Owen is a big jerk. He's mean to everyone." Finally taking a breath, and having warned the adults not to be angry with Angie, he finally moved out from between Brennan and the little girl.

Angie stood before her foster mother and refused to meet her eyes. Her sobs continued uncontrollably as she brought her shaking fingers to her mouth. Brennan was almost certain that the little girl's tears had nothing to do with physical pain, but she needed to make sure. "Angie, are you hurt?"

The child shook her head, but still wouldn't look at Brennan. She felt a fierce rush of protectiveness as she understood that it was fear causing Angie's sobs- either fear of an extreme punishment, or fear of someone deciding that she wasn't worth keeping around. They were fears familiar to Brennan. Noticing Booth's expression, she realized that the only person in the room to whom they were unfamiliar was Parker. She quickly gathered her foster daughter in her arms, trying to pour all of her devotion to the little girl into the hug. She whispered softly into her ear, "It's okay. You're not going to be punished. Even if you were, I promise that I would never punish you in a way that would hurt. I don't hit, or kick, or burn, and I won't send you away. I promise. You're going home with me. You'll start over to tomorrow."

She felt the moment Angie accepted her promises. The little girl relaxed against her chest and grabbed on to the hem of her shirt, her sobs quieting. Standing with Angie still in her arms, she began to walk out of the conference room, Booth and Parker close behind. Once they were outside the school, she put Angie down on the pavement. Sharing a look with Booth, she addressed the two children seriously.

"The two of you know that fighting is wrong, correct?"

Parker said, "Yes, Ma'am," while Angie nodded solemnly.

She got similar responses when she asked, "And you know that the correct course of action is to notify a teacher or another responsible adult when there is trouble, yes?"

Booth broke in, "And you both understand that, while standing up for each other is good, you still have to be punished for breaking rules- that's why you don't get recess the rest of the week?"

This got a "Yes, Sir" and another nod.

"Parker, you know I'll have to tell your mom when I take you home, right?"

Parker looked at the ground, "Yes, Sir."

"I just have one more question," this time it was Brennan who spoke. "Do you know what _paleta _means?"

This time she was met by three confused pairs of eyes. "It's Spanish, for 'popsicle.' In some parts of Mexico, hand-making fresh _paletas_ is considered an art."

"Bones, I'm not sure what this has to do with the topic at hand?"

"Booth," she explained, as though she were talking to a three-year-old, "these children have expended a great deal of energy today and are probably in need of a blood sugar boost. Furthermore, they are leaving school early, which means they should be doing something educational. I believe that going to my favorite _paleta _stand would meet both of these requirements. They will get the needed sugar, while learning about another language and culture."

Her tone was serious, but her eyes were sparkling. Booth couldn't help but sparkle back. Lifting Shadow up off the ground and putting an arm around Parker, he grinned at her. "Okay, Bones, we're ready to be educated. Lead the way."

**TBC**

**A/N: Yum, paletas. If your town has a paleta stand, and you've never tried one, go now. Also, I know this chapter was a bit of a cliche, what with Parker and Angie and the bully, but I couldn't help myself. I hope you'll forgive my self-indulgence. :)**


	16. Putting Away Childish Things

**Author's Note: Here it is, my last chapter from exile. I'll be home next week, and though I'll be busy, I should have more than five unstructured minutes at a time on any given day. What that means for you is that I should be able to update this story at least a couple of times a week. Also, for those who are keeping track, I believe I told you this story would have about 30 chapters- a few adjustments have been made in the outline, and now it looks like it will be around 40.**

Chapter 12: Putting Away Childish Things

Booth glanced over at his son who was lost in thought and staring out the window of the SUV. Parker had been noticeably quiet ever since they'd parted ways with Bones and Shadow after their paleta adventure. At first, Booth had attributed the boy's silence to anxiety over how his mother would react to the news of his fight, but he was starting to believe there might be more to it than that. "Penny for your thoughts, Parks."

"I was just thinking, Dad," the little boy responded, his eyes never leaving the window.

"Yeah, buddy, I got that. I'm trying to find out what you're thinking about."

Parker turned to his father and gave him that look that children sometimes give adults when they're trying to decide if they can trust them. It's a look that says, _What's about to come out of my mouth is very important, and I'm counting on you to take me seriously._ The conversations that follow that look are often the ones that define the type of relationship a parent has with his child, so Booth mentally prepared himself for what might come.

"I'm thinking about Shadow. You said shadows don't talk, and that's why we gave her a nickname...but why doesn't she talk?" His expression was heartbreakingly earnest. "I asked her to play soccer today, because most days she's by herself. No one talks to her, because she doesn't talk back. Even when Owen was saying all those mean things, she didn't talk back. She just stood there. You say to go tell the teacher if something like that ever happens again, but how can she tell the teacher without talking? It's not hard to talk. I don't understand."

Booth paused for a moment, and considered how he should answer Parker. His son's family might not be traditional, but he had a nice life, surrounded by people who loved him- Booth had made damned sure of that. He didn't know it was even possible to experience at home the kinds of things Booth, Bones and Shadow had experienced. Parker knew his dad caught bad guys, but it was all still so abstract for him. He hadn't yet learned that the scariest bad guys were the ones disguised as someone you should trust, someone you should count on. So how was a father to explain that his little boy's world wasn't every little kid's world?

"Okay, Parks, remember earlier in the office when you said that sometimes people get hurt, but you can't see it on the outside?," he nodded, and Booth continued, "Well, you were right about that. That's what has happened to Shadow. She was hurt by people who were supposed to protect her, and while everything you could see on the outside has healed, there's stuff on the inside that's going to take longer. When you are betrayed by someone who loves you, it hurts your heart. Shadow's heart has been hurt really, really bad, and she needs time to fix it. I think that she just wants to be quiet for a little while. She's seen some really bad things, and I think maybe she just wants to sit back and observe for a while. You know, see if she sees evidence of any good things."

Parker thought about his father's explanation and finally said, "It's good, then, that she's with Dr. Bones. Dr. Bones is good at being quiet and collecting evidence. Dad," he asked, "where are Angie's parents? Are they the ones that hurt her?"

Booth squeezed his son't shoulder and answered softly, "Yeah, buddy, they were the ones that hurt her."

"But I don't understand. Why would you have a kid if you were just going to mean to it? Parents are supposed to be the ones who keep you from getting hurt. I don't understand."

"I don't understand either Parker. I really, really don't."

"Did you put them in jail for hurting her? Is that why she got to come live with Dr. Bones?"

"Her parents are in jail," he answered honestly, "but I didn't put them there. They were involved in drugs, and drugs can make you do things you wouldn't normally do...hurt people you normally wouldn't hurt."

"Well, I think that if you really loved your kids, you wouldn't do drugs at all." Parker spoke fiercely, and Booth could tell he was fighting tears.

"Yeah, I think that too, but people make mistakes, buddy. Even moms and dads."

Parker set his jaw in a way that mirrored his father's. Taking a quick swipe at his eyes, he spoke with all the conviction he could muster, "It's okay for Shadow to be quiet right now. We'll show her, Dad. Me, you and Dr. Bones- we'll show her evidence of good things. I'll keep an eye on her at recess, and you work for the FBI, and Dr. Bones is almost like a ninja. We can keep bad people away from her. We'll show her."

oOo

By the time they pulled up at Rebecca's, Booth was so proud of his son and his willingness to stand up for his friend, that he was feeling pretty guilty about having to tell his mother about the fight. It was important that he not keep anything from her, though, especially something as big as this. It had taken years for Booth and Rebecca to develop the respectful, stable joint-parenting relationship that they now enjoyed, and Booth wasn't about to do anything to put that in jeopardy.

Rebecca opened the door, took one look at her son and crossed her arms over her chest. "Alright, spill. What happened?"

Parker looked up at his father, who gave him a pointed look in return. Parker sighed and faced his mom, "I got in trouble today. I punched Owen for being a jerk to Shadow, but only after he put me in a headlock and pushed her down. I didn't get suspended, but I can't go to recess this week. I know it was wrong to hit, and I promise to tell the teacher next time something happens...except that I can't tell her if I'm in a headlock...but I still won't hit." Parker gave his mom a smile and hoped his explanation had warded off any further punishment.

"Don't smile at me like that, kid," she said in a tone that let him know nothing gets past her. "I developed an immunity to the Booth charm years ago. I'm glad you realize fighting is wrong, and I see that you've already been punished at school. Still, I think you need to up to your room and start on homework before dinner. I think tonight's going to have to be a video game-free evening."

Parker nodded in acceptance of his mother's terms. He'd expected a lot worse, but he didn't want to let her know that, in case she changed her mind. Quickly giving his dad a hug, he went upstairs to start on homework.

Booth and Rebecca watched him go before she turned to him and asked, "A fight, huh?"

"Yeah. A fight. Although, I really do think he was trying to do the right thing. You know, standing up for his friend."

"I know. That's why I didn't go too hard on him. He talks about her all the time, you know. He claims she won him over with her mad soccer skillz, but I suspect there might be more to it than that." Rebecca's voice turned serious as she held her ex's gaze. "I think he thinks of her like family. Like a sister. I think he thinks of her that way, because she's with Dr. Brennan, and he thinks of Dr. Brennan as part of his family."

Booth felt his muscles begin to tense. "What are you trying to say, Rebecca?"

Rebecca looked at him with a mix of endearment, frustration and pity. "Look, Seeley, I like Dr. Brennan. She's been great to Parker, and I'm glad she's in his life. What concerns me is that he thinks of her as permanent, when she might not be. I'm not going to be like everyone else and tell you that the two of you belong together, that's not my place. I am, however, a little worried that you've been dating someone named Catherine for quite a few months now, and Parker seems to know nothing about her. As far as he knows, 'Dr. Bones' is the only woman in your life. I just feel like I need to warn you that he might not take it very well when he finds out the truth."

"Rebecca, Catherine and I see each other casually. We're not in a serious relationship."

"Okay, but I'm just telling you that you might want to start mentioning it to Parker, so that it won't seem to come out of the blue if it does get serious."

"Thank you, Rebecca. I'll take that under consideration." His words were polite, but his tone had an edge. "I better get going."

Just before he left he turned back to his ex. "By the way, Bones is permanent. There's no need to worry about that, because no matter what else happens, she's permanent." He turned so quickly to walk to his car that he completely missed the knowing grin that spread across Rebecca's face.

**TBC**


	17. The King of Letting Go

**Author's Note: So, I'm back home, readjusting to the heat and humidity. Thank you all for your patience with my infrequent posting schedule and for all of your feedback on this story.**

_Chapter 13: The King of Letting Go_

"Squints!," Booth barked as he rushed into the lab, "I have new information on the Allen case. You're all going to want to hear this."

Hodgins was by Booth's side in an instant. His two day mini-honeymoon with Angela had gone a long way toward helping him relax a bit, but he wouldn't be able to truly feel at ease until they had put to rest the possibility of the Gravedigger having an accomplice. "What've you got man? Anything explaining how that woman's hair ended up in the storage locker?"

Booth started to answer, but realized something was off. "Wait a minute- where's Bones?"

"We're here, Booth," she answered, walking toward the platform, Vincent Nigel-Murray close behind, "and we have information for you as well. We believe we've identified the murder weapon."

"Wow, that's great. Let's hear it."

Brennan nodded to her intern. "Mr. Nigel-Murray, please explain to Agent Booth what you discovered."

Vincent swallowed. Dr. Brennan on her own intimidated him. It was as though she was just waiting for him to make a mistake. Agent Booth was frightening too, although in a different way- he always stared too hard. He looked right into you, seeing all the mistakes you had already made. The combination of the two was almost more than Vincent could bear. In their presence, he always felt like he was floating outside of himself, watching as he turned into a rambling pile of goo. "Well, of course, the victim was strangled. Did you know that the majority of strangulations are committed with the bare hands? Quite extraordinary when you take into account the amount of force required to completely cut off the flow of oxygen...unless of course, the victim is unconscious, in which case, very little force is required. Did you know that the first reported...," he trailed off as he noted his boss's impatiently tapping foot and her partner's suspicious expression.

"Bones," Booth whispered out the side of his mouth, his eyes never leaving the intern, "I think you should keep an eye on that one. He seems a little too interested in killing people with his bare hands. Everyone knows the British make the scariest psychopaths."

"Don't be ridiculous, Booth," Brennan didn't bother with whispering. "First of all, it is impossible to quantify the 'scariness' of anything, much less to do it based on nationality. Furthermore, Mr. Nigel Murray is not a psychopath. He is quite competent, even though he apparently lacks any ability to control the irrelevant facts that come tumbling out of his mouth," she glared at the quaking intern.

"I'm just sayin', Bones," Booth continued to whisper, "it wouldn't be the first time one of the squints-in-training tumbled head first over that fine line between weirdo and psycho." He widened his eyes comically.

Brennan narrowed her own eyes in return before hissing, "Zack is not a psycho!" Turning her attention back to her student, she practically yelled, "Mr. Nigel-Murray are you capable of performing the simple task of reporting your findings to Agent Booth, or are you not?" Her tone left no doubt that there was only one right answer.

"Yes, um, right away," Vincent stumbled, "the striations on the bone indicated that the victim had been strangled with a wire-like device, though not a typical covered wire. The implement used had small ridges. After several days of comparisons, I was able to identify the weapon as a guitar string. From the size and shape of the striations, most likely a bronze phosphor string used most commonly on acoustic guitars. Did you know that the first guitar strings were made from animal...," seeing Dr. Hodgins shake his head in warning, Vincent cut his history lesson short. "No, no I suppose you didn't know that, and I'm sure that you didn't want too. Well. That is all. Yes, I'll just go look at some bones...I'm sure there must be something...," he continued mumbling to himself as he made his way off the platform and out of earshot.

Angela, who along with Cam, had made her way onto the platform at Booth's entrance shook her head sadly after the intern. "Poor kid. Maybe he should consider medication. Anyway, just so you know, those types of strings are very common. You can buy them at any chain music store, or over the internet, in case you were thinking of trying to trace the manufacturer," she said, reading the agent's mind. "What about you, Booth? What's your news?"

"Well, I've been trying to keep this investigation quiet. If there is a connection between someone in the FBI and Taffett, I don't want word getting out that we're looking into a possible accomplice. I haven't had access to the usual cadre of FBI analysts, but over the years, I've managed to make some friends in Metro. They've helped me look over some of their cold cases, and we've managed to find ten other unsolved cases of prostitutes killed in the same manner and general area as Rose Allen. No one has ever linked them together because the murders have taken place over the course of the last six years. Of course, we can't be sure that the murders were committed by the same person without an investigation, but here's something interesting- it's likely that all of the murders were committed on a Wednesday night between the hours of 2:00 and 4:00 AM. The coroner, in almost every case, was able to narrow the murder down to this timeframe."

"And still no one made the connection?," Cam asked incredulously.

"No. Come on, Cam, you were a cop. You know how it is. No one's putting their best investigative skills into a case of a dead prostitute. No one saw the connection, because no one was looking for it."

"If I understand you correctly," Hodgins interjected impatiently, "you're saying that we are dealing with a serial killer."

"Yeah, Hodgins, that's how it looks."

"I still don't see how this could be connected to Heather Taffett," Brennan was skeptical. "A serial killer specializing in prostitutes is unlikely to run in the same circles as a sociopathic federal attorney."

"That's just it, Bones. With these people, you can never predict exactly what kind of circle they run in. I'm going to call in Sweets, ask for a profile. We should be able to trust him to keep things quiet. Besides," Booth added, casting a worried look at Hodgins, wondering just how much more his friend could take before he snapped, "you're all going to have another opportunity at finding evidence that might explain the connection. The latest victim was killed just last Wednesday. Her unidentified body is still at the morgue. I'm working with Metro to have her brought here. Bones, I know you don't do flesh, but I thought there might be particulates that Hodgins could find informative."

"Yeah, man, of course," Hodgins nodded, trying not to let on that he was struggling to breath normally. "As soon as you can get her here, I'll be ready."

Booth put a reassuring hand on the bug man's shoulder. "Great. Well, that's all I have. It will probably take a couple of days to get the body here. In the meantime, I'll keep reviewing the similarities between the prostitute murders. Angela, do yo think you could do some of your computer magic, run some scenarios, see if we can come up with any link between these murders and Heather Taffett?"

"Sure thing Booth. Send me all the information you have, and I'll see what I can do."

As the squints began to scatter, Booth grabbed his partner's arm. Waggling his eyebrows and flashing a smile, he asked, "Lunch?"

Brennan looked for a moment as though she was going to turn him down, but then she grinned. "Give me ten minutes."

oOo

She hadn't really spoken to her partner since the day they had both been called to the school. Officially, they had each been too busy with their own separate pieces of the case to get together, but in reality, it was a bit more complicated than that. Being at the school with Booth, dealing with the repercussions of the fight, had left Brennan with a lot to consider. She realized that she had begun to think of Angie as hers- not just a little girl for whom she was providing a safe environment and care, but as _hers_. Moreover, she feared that she was also thinking of the little girl, and even Parker, as _theirs._ It wasn't exactly that she felt like Parker's mother. No, the little boy had a very good mother to whom he was very close; it was more like she felt a responsibility toward him. He had become more than just her partner's child. By the same token, Angie seemed to be more to Booth than just his work partner's foster daughter. She found this feeling of joint responsibility so pleasing that it was terrifying.

They weren't supposed to be here. They were supposed to be on opposite sides of the world. She certainly wasn't supposed to be considering joint parenting two children, neither of whom actually belonged to her. No. All of the things that had made leaving sound like such a good idea were still true, yet here they were. Here she was, still investigating crimes. How could they have been so ready to walk away from each other, yet completely able to pretend that it had never been true? She was fighting back the same creeping feeling that she had felt after he had told her they could still work together, even though she wouldn't give _them_ a try. It was the sensation that she was indulging herself in a game of make-believe. It was a warning that everything would shatter eventually.

Still, she seemed powerless against the allure of the game. _No, not powerless. You're never powerless. You're making a choice. The wrong choice. _Instead of asking the question she should have asked, she lost herself in pretend. "I hope Rebecca wasn't too upset with Parker the other day. I feel badly that he got into trouble for helping Angie. We've had a talk about the importance of fighting your own battles."

Booth looked up from his burger with an expression that she couldn't interpret. "So, you're trying to indoctrinate her, huh?"

Brennan refused to meet his eyes, refused to have this conversation. "I don't know what that means."

"Whatever you say, Bones," Booth answered wistfully. He knew what she was doing, but he couldn't bring himself to stop her. Rerouting the discussion to her preferred path, he added, "Rebecca wasn't angry. She understood why Parker reacted the way she did. Truth be told, we were both proud of him. One night of no Play Station was the worst of his punishment."

Now she could look at him. "Good, Booth. I'm glad. And you should both be proud of Parker. He's an extraordinary child." He gave her a smile, and she decided to give in completely to the dangerous power of make-believe. "You have him this weekend don't you? I promised Angie a movie night on Saturday, if the two of you would like to join us. I can teach the kids to make pizza."

This time she had no problem deciphering the look on his face. Regret, pure and simple. "That sounds great, Bones, but, well, I kind of have plans for Saturday. I was, uh, thinking it was time to introduce Parker to Catherine." His words hung in the air between them as he watched for his partner's reaction.

For a moment, Brennan was too taken aback to respond. She had truly forgotten about Catherine. Telling herself that she was grateful for the reminder that she lived in the real world, rather than some silly dream world, she made her face neutral and responded, "You haven't mentioned Catherine lately. I'm happy to hear that things are working out for the two of you."

"Well," Booth said uncomfortably, "I mean, there hasn't really been a lot to mention. When I told her I wasn't going to be leaving D.C., we decided to continue seeing each other. We've had a couple of dinners, nothing serious."

"Oh. Well, if it's not serious, why are you introducing her to Parker? I believe it is atypical for traditional parents, such as yourself, to introduce casual sex partners to their offspring. Perhaps, the two of you are more serious than you are willing to admit. Maybe you are afraid of 'jinxing' it by admitting it out loud. That sounds like the type of ridiculous superstition you would hold."

Booth felt his anger rising. "Okay, first of all, Catherine and I are not casual sex partners. Sec-"

Brennan interrupted, not knowing why she was doing this to herself...or to him. "So, then, you are committed sex partners?"

Booth ignored her. "Second of all, I'm not worried about jinxing anything, thank you very much. Catherine and I are just fine, and I'm sure Parker will love her."

His eyes were flashing, and he leaned across the table as he spoke, invading her personal space. Refusing to be intimidated, Brennan leaned forward as well, her glare matching his. "Good. I hope you all have a very good time."

"Thank you," he practically spit. "We will."

Realizing that their faces were so close that she'd barely have to lean forward to kiss him and that there was nothing in this world she'd rather do, she abruptly pushed back her chair and stood up to walk away.

"Wait. Where are you going?" She heard him call from behind her. He sounded a little dazed. _Maybe I'm not the only one playing pretend._

"Back to work," was her terse response.

"I'm your ride," he responded, as though she had taken leave of her senses.

"I need the exercise," was the last thing she said to him before letting the glass door slam behind her.

**TBC**

**Author's Note: I know, I know. You all hate third parties. Trust me, so do I. At least I won't be making you wait another week for an update.**


	18. The Parent Trap

**Author's Note: So, this was my first attempt at writing from a child's perspective (well, as much from a child's perspective as 3rd person will allow). Feel free to let me know if it just didn't work.**

_Chapter 14: The Parent Trap_

Something was wrong with Parker, Angie could tell. She didn't talk, and sometimes people thought that meant that she couldn't tell things either, but that was their mistake. Angie was very, very good at being able to tell things about other people. If she hadn't been, she never would have lived to be six years old. No, she always noticed when something was wrong.

Besides, Parker was easy. His face always gave him away. When he was happy, his eyes did this sparkle-y thing, and his smile took up his whole face. She liked that smile. When he was trying to concentrate on something he didn't understand, his eyes became squinty, and he would puff out his cheeks. When he had done something he shouldn't have, he would wiggle his nose and blink too fast. Right then, his eyes were dart-y, and he was biting his lip...that meant something was wrong.

When she first saw him getting on the bus, biting his lip, she was worried that maybe he had gotten mad at her, or that he was tired of always having to sit with her. She thought maybe he would rather sit with all of his friends- that big group of boys who were always telling gross jokes and laughing really loudly. When he sat next to her in their usual seat near the front of the bus, instead of walking toward the back with his other friends, she was so happy. Sitting next to Parker made her feel good. It let everyone know that he was her friend. Parker was a fun friend to have, and everyone liked him- that meant that no one would bother her...especially not after he'd punched that stupid Owen.

Still, she was worried about whatever was worrying Parker. He was a normal kid, so he didn't usually have a lot of worries. That was another reason she liked to be around him- it was nice to be friends with a normal kid. Angie wanted him to stay that way forever, so it was very important to her that his "something's wrong" look disappear from his face. She looked at him, waiting for him to tell her what was going on. She had learned this trick a while ago- apparently, if you don't talk, if you just look at someone, it will make the other person talk more. It worked almost every time.

As they were getting off the bus and walking toward The Jeffersonian, it finally worked on Parker. He turned to her, still wearing his "something's wrong" face, and said with a sigh, "We won't be able to hang out together this weekend, Shadow."

She didn't understand why this made Parker so upset. There were lots of weekends when they didn't get to hang out- Parker was one of those kids who sometimes lived at his mom's house and sometimes lived at his dad's. That was okay, because they always saw each other at school. Confused, Angie continued to look at him, waiting for an explanation.

He gave her a grim smile and said, "I'm going to the aquarium." He said it the way a lot of kids said, "I'm going to the dentist." She still didn't understand. Angie had never been to the aquarium, but as far as she could tell, an aquarium was just a museum with fish. It sounded kinda fun. In fact, if Parker's dad would just mention it to her mama, she was sure she would take her too._ I know Dr. Brennan isn't actually my mama, but come on...it's not like I say it out loud to anyone. I just like to pretend that she is, that I have a nice mama- one who does things like cook dinner and read bedtime stories._

She was working out whether or not she would be frightened of the sharks she had heard were at the aquarium when Parker finally decided to tell her what was wrong. "I'm going to the aquarium with my dad and his new girlfriend." They had walked into the museum and were headed toward the after-school classroom, so his voice changed to a whisper. "You know how serious this is, right? My dad never has girlfriends. Even when I wanted him to get one so that we could have a pool, he wouldn't. Dr. Bones just lets us use her pool, which is really the best way anyway. I mean, what if they get married? You know that would be bad, right?"

Angie nodded; she did know. If Parker's dad got married, he probably wouldn't be able to come over all the time, and she liked it when he came over. Even if he didn't bring Parker, it was still fun, because he always made jokes that made her mama laugh. She didn't really understand grown-ups very well, but she was pretty sure her foster mother wouldn't laugh very much if Parker's dad married someone else. Also, maybe Parker and his dad would have to move to live with the new girl, and maybe Parker wouldn't go to her school anymore. He was her friend...the only one she had. It was okay to be on the swings alone at recess, but it would be bad to be on the bus alone. There would be no one to keep the mean kids away.

She was trying not to cry when she noticed Parker's face had changed from "something's wrong" to a combination of "happy" and "I've just done something I shouldn't have." He put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Shadow, I think I have an idea. We need to go to the lab, though. If I tell Mr. Max that you really need to go talk to Angela, he'll let us go, won't he?"

Angie nodded enthusiastically. She knew he would let them go. Her grandpa _(I know I don't really have a grandpa, but it's okay to play pretend, right? If I have a mama, I can have a grandpa too.) _almost never told her no. He would say things like, "Tempe will kill me, but go on and take another cookie, princess. Two cookies for dessert never hurt anyone." Besides, he had once winked and told her that he thought it would be nice if her mama married Parker's dad; he would want to help.

oOo

She had been right about her grandpa. When Parker had asked him if they could please go over to the lab to talk to Angela, he had smiled and asked if it was important. When Parker said yes, and she nodded, he asked if it was _very important. _When they nodded again, he agreed to let them go, "seeing as it is _very _important."

They snuck into the lab, trying hard to be extra quiet. Her mama had never really said that they weren't supposed to leave the after-school program to visit the lab, but Angie thought it was probably one of those things that she would claim that she shouldn't _have_ to say.

Luckily, there was no one out in the big part of the lab, so that meant that everyone must be in their offices. She and Parker had been there enough to know which door was to Angela's office, so they ran (quietly) to it and knocked. When the artist opened the door, she looked a little surprised. Angie was afraid she would be angry until she smiled and said, "Well, well, well. If it isn't my two favorite junior squints. To what do I owe the honor?"

"Parker? Angie? What are the two of you doing here? Shouldn't you be with the after-school program?"

Angie turned to see Cam standing behind her. She liked Cam, because she knew how to make her hair look pretty like the other girls in school. So, she gave her a wave and turned back to Parker, waiting for him to answer the grown-ups' questions. That was another good thing about not talking- no one ever expected you to answer questions.

Besides, answering tricky questions was what Parker was good at. She watched as her friend arranged his face into his "I am such a sweet young man" look, which Angie knew was really his "I'm trying to charm you into not noticing that I'm doing something I shouldn't" look. Batting his eyelashes adorably, he answered, "Cam, Angela, Shadow and I really need your help. It is very serious, and you're the only ones who can help us."

Neither child noticed the look of amusement that passed between the ladies. Angela nodded her head seriously and said, "Well, of course we'll help if we can. Why don't you two tell us what's going on?"

Angie was looking around the lab nervously, afraid her mama was going to come out of her office any second and catch them. Parker didn't fail to notice this, so he leaned over and whispered to Angela, "It's private. Can we talk in your office."

Smothering a laugh at the little boy's antics, Angela stood aside and ushered the children and Cam into her office. "By all means."

After they were all seated, it was Cam who spoke first. "Okay you two. I can assure you that nothing you say will be overhead, so let's hear it. Why do you need our help?"

With the kind of honesty that ceases to be cute after age 10, Parker replied, "Well, we actually only need Angela's help, but since you were here too, we didn't want to hurt your feelings."

This time Angela didn't bother to muffle her laughter. Cam gave her a glare, and Angie bit her lip and started rubbing anxiously at the scrap of cloth she always carried, worried that maybe what Parker had said would make Cam angry. Parker didn't know yet that you had to be careful what you said to grown-ups.

She needn't have worried, though. Eventually Cam just rolled her eyes and said, "I'm starting to think you're actually Dr. Brennan's son, Parker. Now that we all know our place, why don't you go on and tell us what's wrong."

Parker was solemn once again. "We need you to tell us how to make sure that someone doesn't like you."

The grown-ups were suspicious, Angie could tell. This time she didn't miss the way they looked at each other. "I think you're out of luck, Parker," Angela answered. "It's scientifically impossible to dislike a Booth man."

Angie narrowed her eyes. She was pretty sure likability was one of those things her mama would say couldn't be measured scientifically. Angela was very fun, but sometimes her information was inaccurate.

"Besides," continued an obviously skeptical Cam, "why would two adorable little kids like you _want_ to be disliked?"

Parker was offended. "I'm eight, and Shadow's almost seven. You stop being a little kid at five," he explained, as if it was the most obvious thing on the planet. "Shadow's small, but if you go by age, she's not a little kid."

"My apologies, Parker. Why would two _big_ kids like you want to be disliked?"

"It just seems like the easiest way," Parker stated simply.

"The easiest way to what?" Cam was sure there was an entertaining story here.

Parker shrugged. "The easiest way to make someone disappear."

"Whoa there, baby Corleone," Angela interrupted. "Who are we making disappear?"

Angie could tell that Parker was frustrated that this wasn't going his way. "Somebody," he mumbled.

"Well is this somebody another kid at your school? Because if it is, and they're bothering one of you, you need to talk to your parents or the teacher."

"It's not a kid," Parker answered with an exaggerated sigh.

Angie caught another look pass between the grown-ups. It was quick, so she couldn't tell what it meant. "Well, if it's not a kid," Cam asked, "is it a man or a woman?"

Parker was going to crack, Angie knew it. He wasn't very good at being patient. He opened his mouth to say, "It's a woman, alright!" and, sure enough, the entire story came tumbling out. Angie watched as Angela and Cam shared yet another mysterious look before giving them the grown-up answer she expected- something about there being certain things that adults just had to work out for themselves and that children shouldn't worry about big people things.

As they left the office to return to the after-school program, Parker was back to wearing his "something's wrong" face. Angie was upset too, until she happened to look back at the two women watching them go. Angela's eyes were dancing, and the corner of her mouth was turned up- her "I've got a plan" face. Suddenly, Angie knew they didn't need to worry. She grabbed Parker's hand and squeezed, trying to make sure he knew too.

oOo

Angela watched the kids make it safely out of the lab before pulling her boss back into her office and closing the door. Foot tapping, she asked, "Okay, how are we going to fix this?"

Cam put out her hands in a 'stop' gesture and shook her head. "No. Good things do not come to those who get sucked into the Booth and Brennan vortex. Trust me, I speak from experience." Seeing that the artist wasn't prepared to give up, she tried again, "Come on, Angela, everyone knows they're meant for each other. Eventually, they'll figure it out for themselves. Don't you think we should just mind our own business?"

Defiant, Angela put her hands on her hips, "No. We've been minding our own business for years, and look where it got us- almost to Indonesia."

"I think your definition 'minding your own business' might be seriously skewed."

"Come on, Cam, you said it yourself- everyone knows they're meant to be together. Everyone knows it, but everyone can also see how dangerously close they are to missing their moment. It's time to fix this."

Cam clicked her tongue, "What is it with you married people, needing everyone else paired off? Such a cliche. I thought better of you, Angela."

Knowing she was close to bringing her boss over to the dark side, Angela went for the kill. She stuck out her lower lip and widened her eyes. "Did you see how worried Parker and Angie were? Bless their little hearts. They need your help."

"Actually, I think Parker was quite clear that he didn't need me at all."

Shoot, Angela had forgotten about that exchange. "Come on, Cam. I'd go to Sweets, but he's no fun anymore. He absolutely refuses to interfere with those two."

Cam laughed. "Well, I have to give the kid credit for strong self-preservation instincts. Besides, what would we do? Ambush Booth while he's on his date?"

"No," the artist shook her head. "It can't be us. It needs to be more subtle."

"Angela, I was joking." Cam rolled her eyes, but paused at the thought that entered her head. "Actually..."

Angela gave a little bounce and clapped her hands. "You have an idea!"

Cam gave her a wary look, trying to decide if she really wanted to play this card. She held up a finger indicating that the artist should be quiet, then walked decisively over to the phone. Dialing, she flashed Angela a big smile as the line was answered. "Ms. Julian," she asked casually, "how do you feel about the aquarium?"

**TBC**


	19. Someone Else's Love Story

**Author's Note: I apologize for taking such a long time to update. I had honestly hoped to have this chapter up by last weekend. I have no excuse besides heat-induced laziness...and a desire to read other people's stories during my down time. I'll be better next time!**

_Chapter 15: Someone Else's Love Story_

_This is good, this is good, _Booth hoped that if he kept the mantra running through his head while blindly staring at the fish surrounding him, eventually it would become the truth. Except that it wouldn't. He could keep trying, but he was pretty sure he couldn't make this work. He was pretty sure it was a bad sign when you woke up on the morning of your date dreading the fact that your very hot, quasi-girlfriend would now expect you to have sex with her. Not that it wasn't a reasonable expectation. They'd been seeing each other for months. For a while, sex hadn't really been part of the equation, because their dates had been infrequent...and usually during the day. Then, of course, he thought he was moving, no need to take the relationship to the next level. Now, though, there was nothing standing in their way. He knew as soon as he made the call, asking her to meet his son, that she definitely viewed the invitation as an indication that he was ready for something more.

In fact, when he made the call, he'd wanted it to mean something more. It was time, for the love of god. It was time. He was sick to death of himself- indecisive, heartbroken, weak. He missed old Booth. Old Booth was never so unsure. Old Booth didn't waste away his days pining for someone who, by her own admission, could never love him back. Old Booth had sex. Plenty of it. Besides, Catherine was great. She really was. She was beautiful, funny, smart...a hockey fan. No, his feeling of impending relationship _ (make that quasi-relationship)_ doom had nothing to do with who Catherine was, and everything to do with who she wasn't. _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

This realization really pissed Booth off, especially considering that _who she wasn't_ had been nothing if not clear about her lack of interest in a romantic relationship with him. He tried to hold on to the anger. He could work with the anger, use it to push himself past the feelings of dread, bring back some of that old Booth fire...except. Jesus, except. Except he couldn't push back the feeling that he was cheating. It was worse than it was when he was with Cam, even though he had NO FUCKING REASON to feel bad this time. He wasn't lying to her, he wasn't leading her on. He had been honest, and she had shot him down. She'd told him, TOLD HIM, to move on. Still, here he was with a perfectly nice, perfectly pretty, "on-paper-just-right-for-him" woman, and he couldn't help but feel like he was some sort of home wrecker...like he was screwing over his wife and kids.

He let out a bitter laugh that caught Parker and Catherine's attention, but he was too lost in his own angry thoughts to notice. It was classic, really. He even had the bitter kid, sulking about being out with his father's replacement girlfriend. Parker wasn't the kind of kid to be openly rude to a friend of his father's, but Booth had no doubt of his son's displeasure with the day's outing. His normally overly-talkative little boy had remained uncharacteristically silent since they'd picked Catherine up. Booth couldn't help but laugh earlier when Catherine had whispered in his ear that he should be proud of having raised such a well-behaved, quiet child. _If she only knew._

All of this is to say, Booth saw the writing on the wall. He knew where this was headed. Still, the man in him who was angry, whose pride was hurt and heart was broken, wondered if he couldn't somehow salvage the whole thing...create a great ending out of a mediocre beginning. He was considering how long he could experiment with the whole doomed quasi-relationship thing without being a first-class jerk when the decision was taken out of hands. Yes, he saw the writing on the wall, but it appeared that a certain federal prosecutor had decided that it was time Catherine saw it as well.

oOo

"Well, if it isn't Seeley Booth. Fancy running into you here, _cherie_." Caroline Julian walked toward him with her hands on her hips and a cheshire cat grin on her lips.

Booth glanced at his son, whose eyes lit up at the sight of the approaching prosecutor, and sighed. That confirmed it, something was definitely up. Not in the mood to be jerked around, Booth decided not to play along. "What do you want Caroline? What are you doing here?"

Caroline scoffed and glared at him. "Excuse me, Seeley, but are you always this rude on the weekend? I don't know what you're trying to imply with that put-upon tone of yours, but I assure you that I have no other agenda in being here than to enjoy the soothing comfort of the fish."

Booth folded his arms over his chest. _Angela. Without a doubt. It's a shame I'm going to have to kill her so soon after her marriage. Hodgins will just have to understand. _"Really, Caroline? The 'soothing comfort of fish'?

Caroline's smile widened, and she lifted her eyebrows in challenge. "That's right," she said in her sweet-as-pie voice. "Doctor's orders, actually. He said it'd be good for my blood pressure. It was either go see the fish, or give up my fried okra, and you know that no self-respecting Southern woman would ever give up her fried okra."

Booth couldn't help but laugh. "So here you are."

"That's right, _cherie, _here I am." Caroline began looking around, as if she was expecting to meet someone.

"Lookin' for somebody, Caroline?" Booth drawled, knowing exactly what to expect from her answer.

"I was just tryin' to spot Dr. Brennan and her little mute," she continued glancing around the aquarium. "I know when it comes to you and Dr. Death, you never really find one without finding the other, and I needed to check on that baby's hair- make sure her mama's following my instructions. So where is she, _cherie,_ off giving the child an anthropological lecture on seahorse society?"

Before Booth could respond, Parker answered morosely, "Dr. Bones and Shadow aren't here, Miss Caroline. We couldn't hang out with them like we usually do, because we're on a date." As he said this last part, he shifted his puppy dog eyes toward Catherine.

Catherine, who was not as oblivious to Booth's earlier mood as he would have liked to believe, had been watching the entire exchange with interest. She gave a tight smile and introduced herself to the other woman.

"Well, Catherine it is so nice to meet you," Caroline said graciously before turning to Booth. "Congratulations, Seeley, this one's lovely. I have to admit that I had long since given up on you ever looking twice at anyone who didn't spend her days staring at mangled bones, but I suppose it's good to be wrong every now and then...builds character, or something."

Caroline smiled sweetly as Booth glared back at her. Glancing between the two, Catherine broke in, "Caroline, actually, would it be okay with you if I borrowed Seeley for just a moment? Would you mind showing Parker the seahorse exhibit? I promise, they're very relaxing. Excellent for lowering blood pressure."

Caroline gave Catherine a look of respect before nodding and ushering Parker Booth toward the seahorses. She felt a small twinge of guilt- Catherine didn't seem so bad. _Which means she deserves to know that she will never be more than second fiddle where Seeley Booth is concerned. _Satisfied that she was doing the woman a favor and feeling absolved of any lingering guilt, she looked down and gave the smiling Parker a conspiratorial wink.

oOo

As Catherine pulled him into a quiet little alcove beside an emergency exit, Booth tried to decide what he should say. Booth knew she deserved better than what he was able to give her, and he also knew that Catherine was smart enough to have figured that out for herself by now. Deciding the best way to begin an awkward conversation was to just dive right in, he started, "Look, Catherine, I'm so sorry-"

She held up a hand to stop him. "Seeley, there's something you should know about me." He nodded, so she continued, "I'm Julia Roberts. I'm Meg Ryan. I'm Sandra Bullock...or maybe now that blond chick from _Grey's Anatomy_."

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for a response, but hell if he knew what to say to that. He was as confused as he'd ever been during one of Bones' anthropology lectures. _It's all women. It's not just Bones. I don't understand a damn one of them. At least Bones never actually expects me to understand. _

Seeing his blank look, Catherine had to laugh. "What I'm trying to say is, I'm usually the star of the romantic comedy. The woman that the man is meant to be with. Ever since we started seeing each other, I've had this niggling suspicion that I've managed to stumble into someone else's movie...that instead of being the star, I'm the no-name supporting actress whose only purpose is to highlight how much the leading man belongs with Sandra Bullock." She gave him a wry grin and waited for him to respond.

He wanted to be able to deny it. He wanted to tell her that Sandra Bullock didn't love him back and that every once in a while it turned out that the leading man actually belonged with the supporting actress. He wanted to, but he knew he'd never be able to forgive himself if he strung this perfectly lovely woman along for even one more minute. Besides, regardless of the fact that Bones wanted him to move on, he knew he was a lost cause when all he could think about while Catherine was talking was how Bones would never have been able to follow the whole movie metaphor. The thought almost had him laughing at would have undoubtably been an inappropriate moment.

"I'm sorry, Catherine," he said sincerely. "I never should have agreed to start things back up when I knew I wasn't moving. It's just not the time for me. You're great, I mean that. I never meant...I didn't want..."

Deciding it was time to put him out of his misery, Catherine rolled her eyes and gave his shoulder a punch. "You can stop now, Seeley. You've done your part to convince me you're still a good guy," she said, not without kindness. "Besides, it's good for me to know what it feels like not to be Meg Ryan. It'll keep me humble." She smiled when Booth laughed. "Hey, so, I think I'm just going to go. I don't think Parker will miss me."

Booth looked stricken. "No way. I mean, we drove you here. Let me drive you back, seriously."

Catherine's face was filled with humor, "I already told you- you can stop with the whole chivalry thing. I get it. I'm just going to take the Metro, meet up with a few friends at a bar, trash talk you...you know, the usual."

There was a trace of laughter in Booth's voice as he said, "Yeah, well, I guess a little trash talk is the least of what I deserve." He bent down to kiss her cheek. "I'm glad I met you Catherine Breyer."

She patted his chest. "You should be. Good luck with your Sandra Bullock." She gave him a wink and headed toward the exit.

oOo

One hour and several knowing smirks from Caroline later, Booth and Parker found themselves knocking on a familiar door. When it was opened by one very surprised anthropologist, Booth shrugged and said, "We couldn't pass up the chance to learn how to make homemade pizza."

Brennan opened her door wide to let the laughing Booth men in, and she didn't fail to notice the way her foster daughter's entire face lit up when she saw who was at the door. She also noticed Parker giving Angie what he tried to make a secret knuckle bump. She decided not to comment.

oOo

Later, after the pizza had been made and eaten and the kids were firmly ensconced in the living room, watching a disturbingly unrealistic animated movie about talking cars, Booth and Brennan were in her kitchen, cleaning up the pizza-making mess.

"Wow, Bones, it looks like a tornado ripped through this place."

"I can assure you Booth, this does not at all resemble the destruction caused by a tornado. A tornado would have definitely done more than splatter flour and tomato sauce all over the place...at the very least it would have broken a few dishes."

Booth started to roll his eyes and tell her it was just an expression, but he caught a glimpse of amusement dance across her features. "Well, lookee there, Bones is making a joke. Funny." He whipped his wet dishtowel at her as she laughed.

"You should watch what you do with that towel," she said between peals of laughter, "I'd hate to have to kill you and leave no evidence."

"Oh! Oh, she makes two jokes in a row. Look out, Chris Rock."

Her laughter eventually faded, and when she was once again able to speak normally, she said, "I don't know who that is."

"Well, we'll fix that, but we'll have to wait for a time when the kids aren't around."

"Hmm. Sounds intriguing." Pausing briefly, she decided she might as well ask. He had to be expecting it. "So, what happened with Catherine? I thought this was the big date." As the words were coming out of her mouth, she realized that technically they were still in an argument. Neither had apologized for what happened at the diner, and they hadn't really spoken since. How could she have forgotten that they were mad at each other?

Booth didn't seem to remember either...or maybe he was just letting it go, either way, he responded simply, "Didn't work out. I won't be seeing Catherine again."

Brennan was surprised. If she was honest with herself, she was also the tiniest bit pleased. Trying to push that feeling away, she asked, "Why? I thought things were going well."

Booth gave her a sideways glance and answered with a grin, "She doesn't want to date me anymore because she's not that chick from _Grey's Anatomy._"

Brennan looked at him like he was insane. "You mean the text book? She broke up with you because she's not featured in a classic anatomy text book?"

"Huh," Booth realized he's never really clarified this point. "Um, she didn't say for sure, but I think she meant the television show."

"What?" Brennan shook her head. "Why would they make a television show about an anatomy text? Who would watch that? And why would she break up with you over it?"

Booth was now doubled over laughing, only one thought running through his head. _God I love this woman._ He didn't say that out loud, though. Instead he said, "I would think you would watch it, actually. As for the break-up, if it confuses you, imagine how I felt."

Brennan watched him laugh and couldn't help but smile herself. Even though she was secretly pleased that Booth and Catherine weren't dating any longer, she was also angry at this woman who would dare to break up with her partner over something so ridiculous. _He's better off without her_. She didn't say that out loud, though. Not wanting to seem callous, she said, "I'm sorry," instead.

Still laughing he looked at her thoughtfully before once again flicking the dishtowel in her direction. "No you're not."

"What?" Bones was both indignant and confused. His words didn't seem to match his happy demeanor. Were they going to have another fight? Was he making fun of her? ""I am too!"

Booth slowly walked over and stood toe to toe with her. He kept walking until she was backed up against the refrigerator. His laughter faded, but his smile remained. He leaned forward and whispered softly into her ear, "No. You're. Not."

Brennan swallowed hard. The combination of having his body so close and having his warm breath tickle her neck was making it difficult to think...not to mention breath. She couldn't tear her gaze away from his as she stammered, "Yes...yes, I am."

Seeing the combination of arousal, confusion and plain old fear in her deep blue eyes, Booth slowly backed away. In a teasing tone, he said, "Nope. Admit it Bones, you like having me all to yourself."

Trying to decide whether or not she was relieved or disappointed that he had backed away, she walked over and bumped him with her hip. "I just want you to be happy."

He draped an arm over her shoulder as he guided her out to the living room with the children. "I'm happy, Bones. Trust me, I'm happy."

**TBC**


	20. Interlude: On Going Out With A Bang

_Interlude: On Going Out With A Bang._

Miss me? I've missed you. It's not often that I have someone with whom to share the full array of my acquired wisdom. What I have to teach you today is this: human beings place far too much value on being alive. It's a shame, really, how much people _aren't_ willing to die for. I'm sure you've probably come to fancy me a villain, but know this- I have spent more than my fair share of time as a hero. Consequently, I am in regular contact with other heroes. Do you know what all heroes have in common? I'll give you a hint, it's not extraordinary bravery. No, what they have is a strongly-held sense of those things for which they are willing to die. Not one of them has as his or her ultimate goal the desire to live a long life at any cost.

Why am I including this among my lessons? Again, it's because I want you to be prepared. I will not make it out of this story alive. I need you to understand that it was never my intention to do so. I hope by now you have given up on those silly crime shows against which I have repeatedly cautioned you. Knowing what I know about human beings, though, I doubt you have listened. Well, now you will learn of yet another fallacy contained within those shows. Often, the villain dies at the end. Now, not the minor villains, rarely the ones whose fate can serve as a morality tale, cautioning innocent viewers against the dangers of making the wrong kinds of friends. No, almost never those villains. Others, however, the serial killers, the sociopaths, the heroes usually kill them. This story will be no different. I will die, and a "hero" _(though, should all go according to plan, not the one you expect)_ will kill me. What I need you to know is that it will not be, as the crime shows lead you to believe, a case of the villain receiving the punishment he or she deserves. It will simply be the culmination of my work. I will die when I am ready, when I have achieved my final goal.

Do you see, now, that this is a matter of choice? I could go on into old age, living as I do now, indulging my proclivities in the shadows. I would never be caught; it would be so easy. It is not, however, the path I _choose._ There is something that I've wanted for quite a while now. I've had time to dream about it, to elaborate upon it, to plot a path to it. There is no way for me to have what I want and hold on to my life...but that's okay. _Take what you want, and pay the price, so says God._ The achievement of a long held goal, carefully planned, perfectly executed- it is worth the price. I just didn't want you to be under the illusion that a hero could end me even one moment before I have decided to go. See how I continue to play fair with you?

I've been patient, and soon I'll reap the rewards. If my calculations are correct, we'll probably have one more intimate little conversation before we come to the end. I have one last story to tell, and I believe you'll want to hear it. Until then.

**TBC**


	21. Honesty, The Brutal Kind

**Author's Note: Thanks to BoneSarah and Lady-Josie for the Grey's Anatomy idea. For those of you keeping track, we're at the halfway point for this story.**

_Chapter 16: Honesty, The Brutal Kind._

Brennan was vaguely aware of Angela following her as she quickly turned and walked out of the autopsy room. Paying her friend no mind, she made a beeline for the familiar comfort of her own office.

"Bren?" She heard her friend call before softly knocking on the office door. Never one to actually wait for a response, Angela slipped into the room and plopped herself down on the sofa. Giving Brennan a probing once-over, she asked, "Are you you okay?"

Gently massaging her temples while trying at the same time not to let on as to the severity of her headache, Brennan kept her tone neutral as she replied, "Of course I'm fine, Angela. Why would you ask?"

Angela rolled her eyes. Hadn't they been friends long enough for Brennan to know that this little game she always insisted on playing was unnecessary? "Oh, I don't know," she said sarcastically, "Maybe because you're rubbing your head as though trying to stop it from exploding? Or maybe it was the way you ran out of Autopsy like a snake was after you?"

"I was superfluous in Autopsy, Angela. Cam and Hodgins have everything under control, and I don't deal with flesh or organs...unless they've fossilized, then maybe." Brennan hoped that her small attempt at humor would calm her friend, and from the way Angela's eyes softened, she could tell that it had worked.

"She looked really young, didn't she?"

"Yeah, Ange, she did." Just an hour earlier, Metro Police had delivered the body of the latest prostitute to be murdered, presumably by the same person who had strangled Rose Allen with a guitar string. Brennan had gone into Autopsy with Hodgins and Cam, hoping that she could at least help Hodgins examine the corpse for particulates. When they unzipped the body bag, though, Brennan knew she had to get out of there. The girl couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen. She was African-American, and all Brennan had been able to think was that this girl had been someone's _daughter._ Of course, each body she examined had once belonged to someone's son or daughter, but this time was different. This time it was a young girl who still had her face, who should have been in school right now, taking final exams and making plans for the summer, not lying on an autopsy table surrounded by strangers. All she could think was, _'She shouldn't be here. Someone should have been watching her. You have to watch children. Why wasn't anyone watching her?" _Cam would do an excellent job as always. They'd identify her, then they could find out if anyone had cared enough to report her missing.

Her musings were interrupted by Angela clearing her throat to get her attention. Looking up, Brennan let out a soft laugh at the sight of her dear friend, standing in the middle of her office, holding out her arms for a hug. There was a time when Brennan would have made light of the gesture, or chosen to ignore it, but it was a stance that Angie often took- usually when Brennan had spent too much time at home working. It was as though the little girl wanted reassurance that she hadn't been forgotten, and it made Brennan's heart clench every time. So, it was without hesitation that she walked straight into her friend's arms and held on tightly.

If Angela was surprised, she didn't let on. Instead, she returned the embrace and asked her friend the question that had been circling around in her head for the last couple of weeks. "You don't really think that the person who murdered these women was working with the Gravedigger, do you?"

Brennan pulled back, and it was her turn to give her the probing look. "As you know, any answer I give right now would be pure conj-"

"I'm just asking," Angela interrupted, "because the only real reason anyone thinks it's even a possibility is because there was a hair found on a shovel in the storage locker. A single hair! From a single dead woman! I mean, that's practically nothing. Taffet could have brushed up against her on the street, or something. There's really no evidence."

"Angela-" Brennan was concerned now, and she tried to break in, tried to figure out what was going on with her best friend.

Of course, there's no interrupting Angela Montenagro. "No evidence at all. There's a hair- a _single_ hair- Booth's gut, and Jack's paranoia. Really, that's it. I mean, the FBI isn't even officially involved. Do they even know what we're working on over here? Brennan, seriously, you should talk to Booth. When his superiors find out that he's been going behind their backs, it could do some real damage to his career."

"Angela, I'm sure Booth has his reasons for-"

"Oh, I know he has his reasons! His reason is that he suspects one of them. He suspects someone at the FBI. Do you hear how insane that sounds? That he suspects someone at the FBI of being Taffet's accomplice because of a single hair!" The pitch of Angela's voice climbed along with her agitation.

"That's not the only evidence that has lead him to bel-"

"It's insane! When Hacker finds out, he's going to send him back to mandatory therapy, you know. He probably already has found out. I mean, Booth's great and all, but who does he think he is, trying to keep secrets from the FBI? Oh! And the interns! We can't even tell the interns! We have them running around, studying skeletons, determining cause of death, but we can't tell them why! Like we don't trust them! Which is crazy, because...because..." Angela's rant was brought to an end by her friend once again wrapping her in a tight embrace.

"It's going to be okay, Ange," Brennan whispered, smoothing her hair.

"You can't know that," Angela whimpered.

"Hey," Brennan said with a laugh, "that's my line."

Angela stepped back, laughing at her friend and wiping at her eyes. "I'm sorry, Bren. I don't know what's gotten into me. It's just...this was supposed to be over, you know? The bad guy went to jail, The End." Her eyes once again filled with tears. "There can't be someone else out there, okay? There can't, because if there is, it means that Taffet wasn't grandstanding in court when she said this wasn't over. It means that the people I love most in this world are in danger, and that can't be the truth, okay?"

Brennan cocked her head to the side and looked at her friend with sympathy. "Angela, I had no idea you were so upset. You should have come to me."

The artist looked at the floor. "I didn't want anyone to see that this was getting to me. I wanted to take my turn at being the unflappable one...especially with Jack. He can't sleep without having a nightmare. I wanted to be confident, to be able to reassure him that everything was going to be okay...only I'm not sure I believe that." Her tears began to fall in earnest. "I mean, all those other women, and now, today, that girl. Who would do something like that?"

Brennan was at a loss. A third hug seemed a bit like overkill, and she was never very good with tears. Deciding honesty was the best policy, she answered, "I don't know, Ange. I don't know who would do something like that...but we'll find out. We'll find out, and we'll send him or her to prison, just like Taffet." Her eyes were glinting with determination.

Angela squeezed Bren's hand, and decided it was her turn to lighten the mood. She narrowed her eyes playfully and said, "Even if I wanted to go to you, I couldn't, what with Agent Studly spending every spare second at your place."

"You can always come to me," Brennan answered seriously before realizing that Angela was teasing her. "Wait a minute, how do you know Booth's been spending time at my apartment?"

Angela shook her head. "You people always underestimate me. I have my ways, Sweetie. So, what's going on? Spill."

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Nothing's going on. Angie's quite fond of him."

"Well, girlfriend's got good taste," Angela said, laughter in her voice, "but somehow I suspect that Angie isn't the _only _ one who's _quite_ _fond_ of Booth." Seeing that Brennan wasn't going to budge, Angela gave an exaggerated sigh and let her shoulders slump dejectedly. "Of course, I suppose it's a moot point, anyway, with Booth dating Catherine and all. How is the happy couple?"

Brennan was beginning to suspect she was being played, but she couldn't quite figure out how. "Umm...well...I'm not sure. I actually don't think they're seeing each other anymore."

Angela raised her eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, so the little trip to the aquarium didn't go so well, huh?"

"No," Brennan squinted her eyes, still confused by Booth's description of events. "Catherine said she didn't want to see him anymore because of a television show about Gray's Anatomy, you know, the textbook, but the whole thing still doesn't make sense...hold on. Angela, how did you know Booth and Catherine were going to the aquarium?"

Figuring the best defense was a good diversion, Angela ignored her friend's question. "She broke up with him over _Grey's Anatomy_? That's weird. Although, maybe it had something to do with her not wanting to deal with the fact that he had a child with someone else. That would make sense, because one of the doctors on that show looks just like Rebecca-"

"Angela," Brennan warned.

"No, seriously, Sweetie, they could be twins. It's kind of creepy-"

"Angela," Brennan said in tone that wouldn't be ignored, "what did you do?"

"Nothing," Angela was all smiles and innocence. "Nothing at all. I just assumed they went to the aquarium. She's there a lot because of her job, right? She just doesn't strike me as the creative type, so I just figured they'd do something cliched like go to the aquarium. Oh look!," she pointed, "There's babies Brennan and Booth! Don't worry about them, just focus on your work. I've got a new computer program that will keep them occupied." She was out the door before she even took a breath.

oOo

Less than half an hour later, Brennan heard another knock at her door, and once again, Angela walked right in without waiting for an answer.

"Where are the kids?" Brennan asked, looking up from her computer.

"With Jack. Racing beetles." Angela gave a half smile. "Angie was skeptical at first, but Parker was really into it, and that seem to make her brave...Bren, you're not mad at me are you? I just want you and Booth to be happy."

Brennan smiled back, "No, I'm not mad...and I don't want to know what you did, either. I've decided it might be valuable to hold onto plausible deniability." Both women laughed before Brennan turned serious once again. Echoing Booth's words from the previous weekend, she tried to reassure her friend, "Booth and I are happy. We are. We're partners. I know you have it in your head that we should be more, but Angela, it's enough."

For some reason, Angela found that particular statement heartbreaking. Thinking that this case must have her emotions even closer to the surface than usual, she blinked back tears and said, "I just don't want you to miss your chance."

Determining that it was time to finally put all of this to rest, Brennan was completely honest with with her friend. "Look, you were right, okay? There was a time when there was something more between Booth and me...or at least a possibility of something more. That time is over. We've already missed our chance, Ange. The time is over."

Angela felt anger well up inside of her, fueled by love, concern and an inexplicable sense of urgency. "Really, Bren?" Her tone was harsh, and the hurt look in her best friend's eyes almost gave her pause, but she carried on, saying what she felt needed to be said, "Really? Because it doesn't feel over. It doesn't feel over to me, and it doesn't feel over to Sweets, and I'm willing to bet it doesn't feel over to Booth. But you know what, you know what the really hilarious part of all this is? It doesn't feel over to you." Ignoring the other woman's stunned gasp, Angela continued, "You don't really believe you've missed your chance. No, you've managed to convince yourself that the two of you will be able to go on forever just as you are now. You think that if the day ever does come when you can finally admit that you love him, he'll be there, waiting. You'll deny it, but it's true, isn't it? And all of the evidence so far has backed you up. You date his friend, he waits for you. You date his brother, he waits for you. You date his boss, He. Waits. For. You. He gets killed, he comes back to life. He gets kidnapped, he's rescued. He has brain surgery, he survives. He decides to re-join the Rangers, he changes his mind."

"Angela..." Now Brennan was hurt. She wasn't sure how this conversation had even started, or the root of her friend's anger. "I thought...I thought you were on my side."

"I AM! I AM on your side, Bren. Always. Completely. You and me, okay? That's why I'm saying this." She softened her tone, "Look, Sweetie, I know it seems like this is coming out of nowhere, but...I don't know... Okay, I know you don't put much stock in gut feelings, but ever since that day you called me from the hospital and told me that you and Booth were staying, I've felt this...I can't even explain it, it's just this feeling that we all swerved."

"Swerved?" Angela was so upset, and Brennan was trying to follow, but what she was saying just didn't make sense.

"Yeah," Angela gave her another crooked smile. "Swerved. It's like, we were all splitting up. Remember, Hodgins and I were going to go away too, but then we didn't, and it just feels like we all...dodged something."

"Something bad?" Brennan's voice was almost a whisper. Angela was right, she didn't believe it gut instinct, or fate, or anything like that, but the feeling Angela was describing was one she'd been having herself, one she'd been doing her best to ignore...like she was living a life she had no right to live.

Angela nodded. "Something bad. I know it doesn't make sense, and it's probably everything that's going on with the Gravedigger case that's just getting to me, but I can't shake this feeling that we were all given a gift, or a do-over, or something. I don't want you to waste it. He'll move on. You'll wear him down, and he'll move on, and it will stick. It won't be like Catherine. She won't be some half-hearted attempt at salvaging his pride. You will say you don't want to be with him, and he will take you at your word, and she will take your place. You'll be invited to their wedding, to their children's birthday parties. No matter what he tells you now, things between the two of you will change. When she comes along, he'll distance himself from you. He'll have to, Sweetie. He won't be able to make things work with her, while loving you. I'm just going to be completely honest here and tell you that I watch how he is with you, and I know without a doubt that he won't be able to go on being your partner and your friend without loving you. He'll have to make a choice. With Catherine, he chose you, but sooner or later...he's going to give in and give you what you claim to want. You can only swerve so many times before you crash, Bren."

It was Brennan's turn to blink back tears. Her stomach was turning, and it felt like something heavy was pressing on her chest. She knew that everything Angela said was true. She had pictured it before, attending Booth's wedding. She'd wanted to believe that she would be happy for him, but even as a daydream, it had been excruciating. She felt paralyzed, not wanting to either give into him or let him go. She couldn't convince herself that either option ended in anything other than pain, so she stayed in limbo, hoping to buy more time there. Angela, though, insisted on ruining all of her illusions. Looking at her best friend through watery eyes, she was as open as she had ever been, "I know...but I don't know what to do."

Angela patted her shoulder and smiled a smile full of relief. "You're not out of chances yet, Bren. There's a carnival coming to Bethesda in a couple of weeks. It's the perfect date for a family." She gave her one last hug before walking out the door.

**TBC**


	22. The Little Girl in the Lurch

**Author's Note: This one took me forever to write. My apologies for the delay!**

_Chapter 17: The Little Girl in the Lurch._

Brennan sat, lost in thought, staring at the door Angela had just closed. She didn't want to think about what Angela said. She didn't want to think about what it would mean to join Booth in his gamble, in his attempt to give _them_ a shot. The mere thought produced in her a physical reaction disturbingly similar to what is commonly referred to as a panic attack. Just sitting there at her desk, doing nothing more than allowing herself to consider the possibility of pursuing a romantic relationship with Booth, caused her breath to become shallow and her hands to shake. Of course, thanks to Angela, her alternative to considering a relationship with Booth was no longer to simply put it out of her mind altogether, but rather to consider him moving on with someone else...marrying someone else...having children with someone else.

Just as she was in real danger of hyperventilating due to the idea of having to purchase a dress to attend Booth's hypothetical wedding, the phone rang. Grateful for the interruption and scolding herself for letting irrational daydreams distract her from her work, she composed herself and answered with a professional, "Dr. Temperance Brennan."

"Yes, Temperance, I'm glad I caught you. This is Julie Bolles from CFS. How are you?"

Brennan frowned. It wasn't like Angie's caseworker to call unexpectedly. The poor woman was obviously overloaded with cases, so her only contact with Brennan or Angie usually took place during scheduled home visits. Scrolling through her calendar to make sure she hadn't missed an appointment, Brennan responded, "I'm fine, Julie. Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, but there have been some developments in Angie's case I'd like to discuss with you. I know it's short notice, but would it be possible for you to come into the office today so we could talk about them in person?"

Brennan felt her earlier symptoms of panic return. Trying to fight her feelings of dread by telling herself that she was not Booth and therefore had no reason to 'trust her gut', she agreed to meet the caseworker immediately.

Leaving her office, she was greeted by the sounds of cheering. Following the noise, as she ironically assumed that it would lead her to her silent foster daughter, she had to smile at what she found. Hodgins, Booth, Parker and Angie were all crouched over a small enclosed table, watching beetles race and chanting, "Go, go, go, go! YES!" Brennan gathered from the way Hodgins gave the little girl a big smile and a high-five that Angie's beetle had won that round.

Just then, Booth looked up and caught her eye. He started to smile and point out her presence to Angie, but Brennan stopped him with a small shake of her head. Silently gesturing for him to follow, she moved out of view of Hodgins and the children.

Once he caught up with her, Booth gave her a look filled with concern. "What's up Bones? Do you have some information about the case?"

"No. Nothing like that. I just got a call from Angie's caseworker at CFS, and I need to go in for a meeting."

The color drained from Booth's face. "What's wrong?"

That was not the kind of response she needed at that moment. "Nothing's wrong. It's just a meeting. There have been some developments in the case that she wants to go over with me. I'm sure it's not a big deal. Look, I hate to ask, but I'd rather not take Angie with me if possible. Those offices can be a little unsettling for children. I would ask my dad, but he's out for the day...hence the beetle racing. Would you mind taking her home with you and Parker? I'll be by to pick her up as soon as I can. I'm sure that my conversation with Julie won't take long."

Booth still looked worried, but he didn't say anything. He gave Brennan's hand a squeeze before walking back towards the kids and saying in a booming voice, "Shadow, it is your lucky night. Bones has to work late, so you are coming with me and Parker, and it's spaghetti and meatballs night. I don't usually brag my friend, but my spaghetti and meatballs are going to knock your socks off..."

Brennan smiled and rolled her eyes before heading off to the parking structure.

oOo

_Tempe traced the gouge in the pea green plastic chair with her fingernail as she waited. The garbage bag of clothes at her feet made a crinkling noise as she jiggled her leg. The bag was less full than the one she had packed the morning Russ left. She had outgrown some of her clothes, a few of her things had been stolen and other things had been carelessly left behind in a rush to move on. It didn't really matter to her, though. That first morning, she had hastily put anything she could get her hands on into those bags, figuring that in the absence of her people, at least she would have her things. Eighteen months had passed since then, and she had long since let go of the illusion of permanence. She didn't need people or things for comfort, for she no longer needed comfort. So, it didn't matter how empty her bag got. Each item that disappeared was simply one less thing to lose._

_Standing abruptly, she walked over to a table filled with magazines. Sighing, she noted that they were all back issues of 'Highlights'. Didn't the people at CFS realize that not all of their clientele were from the elementary school crowd and were therefore not easily entertained by 'find the hidden objects' worksheets? Tempe paced the small waiting area once more, wondering where she would go next. She fiddled with the hospital bracelet still secured around her wrist and thought about death. She had almost died. She would have, had there not been a thunderstorm that lowered the steamy July temperatures. Forty-eight hours in the trunk of a car. She didn't remember half of them, because she had eventually become delirious as a result of the heat and oxygen depravation. That was before she'd blacked out. She briefly considered asking her caseworker to contact Russ. If he knew she'd almost died, maybe he would come get her. Then it hit her that they'd probably already notified him. She'd been hospitalized and in a coma...they would have called her next of kin. She'd almost died, and he still didn't want her back. _

oOo

"Temperance? I apologize for keeping you waiting, but an emergency call came through on a different case. Come on back to my office, and we'll talk."

Shaking off the memory that had overtaken her, Brennan placed the _Highlights_ magazine in her hand back on the end table and followed Julie to her office.

Once the women were settled, Julie began filling Brennan in on the latest happenings with Angie's case. "I was informed this afternoon that the parental rights of Angie's biological parents have been terminated."

Brennan was stunned. She wasn't sure what she had expected to hear, but that certainly wasn't it. She had heard nothing of Angie's parents since the little girl came into her care. She knew that the couple had been imprisoned on both child abuse and drug charges, but she still expected for arrangements to be made for visits at some point. "I don't understand. There hasn't even been a hearing beyond the initial emergency hearing that put Angie in State's custody. What have the parents done to cause the State to severe their rights without an official hearing?"

"The State didn't choose to terminate their rights- the parents requested it. They haven't had any contact with Angie since she was taken away, and they have no wish to resume contact. Between you and me, Temperance, this is probably the best thing to ever happen to the poor girl."

"They don't want her? Not even a grandmother, or an aunt? No one wants her?" Brennan felt as though she'd been punched in the stomach. "Angie's a great kid. She doesn't speak, but she's smart. She likes science...she plays soccer... They're not even going to try to fight for her?"

Julie smiled at her kindly, but with tired eyes. "Why would they start fighting for her now? At least this way Angie's status will be changed to "adoptable". She'll have a chance to be adopted by a family that will love her...one that will fight for her."

Nodding slowly, trying to understand, Brennan asked, "What does that mean for now? Is she going to be placed with an adoptive family right away?"

"A family hasn't been identified for Angie yet. I know that you are registered as an emergency foster parent, and you've been wonderful to keep Angie this long. Since she will remain in State's custody until she's adopted, I wanted to let you know that we would arrange for a new placement for her in the interim. She'll probably be placed in a group home until adoptive parents can be found."

oOo

_Limbo. That's what everyone called it. A holding place while you waited to discover whether you were destined for heaven or hell. Tempe had lived in five different homes since her brother left. The first was an emergency placement since Russ had left on a weekend- The Morrisons. She hadn't had time to discover whether or not they were nice. Then, there was her first trip to a group home, Limbo. It was there that her Walkman was stolen. After that came the Kincholes. They were elderly, and after a few months, they decided they just weren't young enough to look after a teenager. Back to Limbo. Then, there were the Crawfords. While none of her other placements had really been heaven, the Crawfords' home was most definitely hell. Fourteen months, culminating in two nights in a trunk of a car and two weeks in a hospital bed._

_When she thought about it that way, she supposed she was grateful to be back in Limbo. At least she understood the rules of survival in a group home: be quiet, don't eat too much, carry everything you don't want stolen on your person at all times, and sleep with something sharp under your mattress. No, she thought to herself, Limbo wasn't so bad. The scary part was that you couldn't get too comfortable in Limbo. You were in a state of constant anticipation, wondering where you would end up next._

oOo

Brennan felt queasy imagining what it would be like for Angie in a group home. Who would read her a story and kiss her forehead every night? Who would surround her with a guard of stuffed animals before she fell asleep? Would there be someone for her to cling to when she was frightened? How would they make sure she kept to her special diet? Would there be a need for her to sleep with something sharp under her mattress?

Of course, then there was the matter of Angie's adoptive parents. Who would they be? What would be their reasons for adopting her? Would they be like Sweets' parents, or would they be like the Crawfords?

Feeling the knot that had taken up residence in her stomach growing larger, she asked, "How long do you think it will take to find a family for Angie?"

Julie's expression conveyed just how much she hated the answer she was forced to give. "Honestly, it could take a while. Angie has a lot working against her. First of all, she's African-American. As much as I wish it weren't the case, the reality is that minority children are much more difficult to place. Second of all, she's not an infant; everyone wants a baby. Finally, she has some pretty serious trauma and trust issues. She's been abused, probably for her entire life, and now she won't speak. She's bound to have attachment issues that she may never fully overcome. Angie needs to be loved, but she may never be able to give anything in return. As well-intentioned as most adoptive families are, that's a barrier that most simply can't overlook."

oOo

_Tempe curled herself into a ball on the hardwood staircase, trying to make herself invisible. She held her breath as she listened to Mr. and Mrs. Benoit talk to her caseworker. It was as though she was afraid that even the whisper of her breath would be enough to give away her location._

"_Mr. Cooper, it's not as though Temperance is any trouble. We wouldn't want you to think that. It's just...she won't let anyone in. We've tried. We know she isn't adoptable, but we're prepared to be more than just foster parents. She's going to age out of the system soon- we'd like to be there for her. Andrew is willing to teach her to drive, and I've offered to take her shopping for a Homecoming dress. She'll have no trouble getting a scholarship to college- she's unbelievably intelligent. She could come stay with us over breaks and on weekends when she wanted to get away. We could do that, we're ready to do that. We want to be a family to someone who needs one, but Temperance..."_

"_Elle is right, Mr. Cooper. We could be a good family for Temperance, but she just isn't interested. Everyday she comes straight home from school- where, by the way, apparently her only friend is the janitor- then she closes herself up in her room. At dinner, she's silent. At Christmas, we had a big thing planned, presents under the tree and all that; she didn't even open them. Every Sunday, we offer to take her with us for dinner at Elle's mom's. She has a big family, and there are several girls Temperance's age there, but she never goes. She always says she has to study."_

"_We know this sounds selfish. We know she's been through a lot and that all foster kids are going to have issues, but...it would be nice if we could get something from her in return. If there was just a little bit of hope that she would someday be able to accept what we have to offer. We just wonder if...maybe...if it's possible that we could do more good with another child. We don't want to give up on Temperance, but we get the impression that she doesn't really want us fighting for her...she seems to want to be left alone."_

_Tempe closed her eyes and rested her head on her knees. She counted to thirty, and when she opened her eyes, she met the sympathetic stare of Mr. Stewart Cooper. She gave him a half smile and nodded, then turned to gather her garbage bag._

oOo

"Adopting a child is something you should do because you want to be a _parent_, not because of any expectation you have of what the child can do for you in return. Not all children are happy and well-adjusted and openly affectionate. That doesn't mean they don't need a family."

"That's true, Temperance, but the reality is still that most people are unprepared to be a parent to a child like Angie."

She hesitated for only a moment before asking the question she'd always known she was going to ask. "What about me? Would it be possible for me to adopt her?"

The caseworker didn't try to hide the shock on her face. After a second of stunned silence, she answered, "Well, I mean, the short answer is yes. Of course, that would be the ideal. Angie's already with you, I can tell by our home visits that she's comfortable with you, and that you take excellent care of her. I just...well, there's nothing in your file indicating that you would be interested in adoption. You seemed very adamant in your initial application that you were only interested in serving as an emergency placement. I know how demanding your work is. Is this something you really want to take on?"

"I didn't know I was interested in adoption. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't be, but Angie... Well, as you said, she's used to me, and I have become accustomed to her. She has a room at my house, she's enrolled in school. I am more than capable of providing for her financially. As it would be difficult to find another family for her, it just seems logical to have her continue on with me."

Julie bit back a smile at the other woman's awkward attempt to avoid admitting any feelings of attachment for the little girl in her care. "As I said Temperance, that would certainly be an ideal situation for everyone involved. The adoption process would be able to proceed relatively quickly- everything would probably be finalized by the end of the summer. Why don't you take the week to consider it? Talk it over with family and friends. If you still feel like this is what you want to do, we'll get the paperwork started."

oOo

Half an hour later she was knocking on Booth's door. Three minutes after that, she was still knocking. The music from inside was deafening, so she gave up and used her emergency key to let herself in. She called out, but no one answered. Following the sounds of music and giggles, she ended up in the living room where she was greeted by the sight of Special Agent Seeley Booth dancing a dance she believed was known as _The Macarena _with two small children. With a huge grin, she did exactly what she knew Angela would want her to do- enabled the video recorder on her phone. _This should lighten the mood in the lab._

After a few minutes, she decided she had enough footage to meet everyone's entertainment needs, and she tapped Booth on the shoulder, alerting him to her presence. He blushed briefly, but recovered and put on his best "I'm the man" smile.

"Heya, Bones. We're having a dance party."

She quirked her eyebrow. "I see that."

The two of them stood side by side in silence for while, watching the kids put on a show. They knew they were being watched, so the pulled out all the stops. Angie was laughing so hard, she had trouble doing all the moves.

"I think this is the first time I've ever heard her laugh," Brennan said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, well, I tend to have that effect on the ladies," Booth made a goofy face and stuck out his tongue as she rolled her eyes. "So, how was the meeting? Everything okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded, deciding she wasn't quite ready to share the details of her evening. "Everything's going to be fine." Feeling a little brave, she added, "Angela tells me there's going to be a carnival in Bethesda in a couple of weeks."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, and apparently children love carnivals...children, and some adults."

"You don't say?"

"I just said so, Booth. Sometimes you're so obtuse. Anyway, would you and Parker want to go with Angie and me?"

"Bones, are you asking me on a date?"

"No," she answered incredulously, "I'm not. I'm simply asking if you would like to join us on a family-friendly outing."

"I don't know, Bones, I remember some pretty romantic moments taking place on roller coasters and ferris wheels...it sounds like a date to me."

"Well, it's not-"

"Hey, Parks!" Booth shouted to be heard over the music. "Bones and Shadow are asking us on a date! What do you think, should we say yes?"

"Yeah, Dad!" Parker shouted back. "I think we should say yes."

"Well," Booth turned back to the blushing Anthropologist, "You heard the kid. It's a date!"

"Booth-"

He shushed her with a finger at her lips. "We'll expect to be fed, Bones, and not just that carnival food. I mean, we'll want that too- who goes to a carnival without eating a funnel cake- but we'll also require a real meal. And flowers. I'll need flowers. I wouldn't want you to think I'm easy."

Knowing from his triumphant tone that there was no hope of her changing the direction of this conversation, she called for Angie to get her things. Gathering the little girl in her arms, she glared at him as she walked out the door.

"I'm really looking forward to our date, Bones!" He called after her, then laughed as Brennan started walking faster. Looking down, he gave Parker a wink and a high five as they watched 'their girls' walk away.

**TBC**


	23. Lessons in 'What's Meant to Be'

**Author's Note: I've noticed that this site has been acting kind of wonky lately, so hopefully you'll actually receive the alert for this chapter. Thanks to everyone for their feedback. Heads up, my sister-in-law is coming to stay with us for a week and a half, so that might impact my ability to update this story over the next few days. I'll do my best.**

_Chapter 18: Lessons in 'What's Meant to Be'._

Booth couldn't stop grinning as he opened the door to the Royal Diner, waved to his favorite waitress and grabbed his usual table by the window. He glanced at his watch and noted with satisfaction that it was 12:26- exactly four minutes before his partner would take her place on the other side of the table. Bones was almost compulsively punctual, so he liked to try to be just a teensy bit early whenever he was meeting her. Sure, it was silly, but it felt like it gave him an advantage, and when it came to Bones, he'd take whatever edge he could get. His smile widened as he thought about the fact that he hadn't played his one-man game of 'beat Bones to the meeting place' since before his brain surgery. One more piece, sliding into place.

His failed date with Catherine had made him think. He hadn't felt like himself since waking up from that coma. His little gamble in front of the Hoover building that night had been an attempt to put his world back in order, but had only caused it to implode. After that, he'd given up. He'd walked around all fragile and broken, treating every encounter with Bones as though he expected it to end with the blow that would finally shatter him beyond any hope of repair. Until that last date with Catherine. For as long as he lived, he would always be grateful he met her, because that last date and his inability too move on made him angry enough at the situation and disgusted enough with himself to finally jerk him out of the funk he'd been in for the last year and a half.

Gordon, Gordon had been right to tell him to "Grow a set," and Sweets hadn't been wrong to remind them that he was the gambler. The problem was that he had acted on their advice before he'd recovered his faith in himself. That night with Bones, he'd broken two of the most important rules of gambling: If you're going to gamble, gamble smart, and never play a game unless you really believe you can win. Thinking back, he realized that he'd known what her answer would be before he'd ever opened his mouth. He knew it wasn't their moment, but he'd gone ahead anyway, convincing himself that they were in a stalemate that had to end. As for rule number one, he certainly hadn't gambled smart. He shouldn't have needed Bones to tell him that she was a scientist. If he knew nothing else, he knew that. It was the stupidest play of his life, trying to convince a die-hard empiricist with nothing more than "I know, I've always known." Of course he'd lost. He'd deserved to, after a game like that.

But now, he was _back, _baby. He'd been floundering, but that had stopped the moment he and Parker left the aquarium and drove straight back where they belonged. He was taking another gamble, but this time he was doing it right. An empiricist needs proof. If he hadn't been so lost last year, he might have noticed that she gathering evidence, building a case. They weren't in a stalemate at all. She believed in love, she accepted that one might find a reason to marry, she could accept that science and faith might just be compatible. She had been so close, but he had rushed her. To make matters worse, he had told her that he _knew_ they were meant to be, then seconds later said that he was going to try to move on. He'd given her proof that night...proof that there was no such thing as meant to be.

He'd made a mistake, but it was one that could be rectified. That one night had changed things, but it hadn't been irrevocable. He was once again confident in what he knew to be true- she was the one, without a doubt. All he had to do now was be patient while she collected evidence. They were already a couple, a family. Sure, they hadn't slept together _(and dear God, that needed to change...soon)_, but sex wasn't the basis for a long-term relationship, it was a bonus. All he had to do was simply let them be exactly who they were, and she'd have her proof. That was his new plan. No more ridiculous attempts at moving on, and no more moping. He was going to be her best friend. He was going to love her. He was going to give in to every flirtatious impulse he had, and he was going to be waiting when she finally caught up.

"Why are you smiling?"

Booth glanced at his watch- 12:30, on the dot. "I don't know Bones, can't a guy just be happy?"

Brennan's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Did you recently have sexual intercourse?"

And just like that, she had him tied up in knots. He started trip all over himself to answer her, but then he remembered his new plan. With a sparkle in his eye, he leaned forward and asked, "Jealous?"

She turned bright red before meeting his gaze and answering with an icy. "Absolutely not."

"Hmph. Well, I'm glad to hear it, because it would be a waste of emotion. Of course I didn't have 'sexual intercourse.' Good God, Bones, when could I have found the time last night to get laid?"

Brennan's mouth quirked at the memory of the night before. "I don't know Booth. I guess I just thought that with dance moves like yours, you must have had women beating down your door."

"You know, Bones, I don't think I like the new funny you. From now on, you should just let me be funny, and you should be...squinty."

"I'll take that into consideration. So, my original question still stands. Why are you smiling while we continue to make almost no progress on a serial killer case that might be linked to a sociopath who wants to destroy us?"

"Now, see, that's the Bones I love," he joked. "The Bones who just cuts right to the chase, puts everything in perspective." He turned serious. "I don't have anything to report. I've talked to Sweets about a profile, but I haven't heard back from him yet. Since this isn't an official Bureau investigation, everything else he's working on has to take priority. What about you?"

"I don't have much either. I feel confident in concluding that all of the victims were, indeed, killed by the same person. I'm using the markings on the bones to determine the angle at which the victims were strangled and the amount of force used. Once I have that information pinpointed, Angela is going to run a reenactment that should help us to estimate the height and weight of the killer. Hodgins is analyzing particulates from the latest body, but that's all we've got. There's still nothing to link this serial killer to Taffet."

"Okay, well, that definitely doesn't sound like nothing. Once we get height and weight, we should be able to determine whether or not our perpetrator is male or female. My gut says male, but I know how you hate to assume. Also, I'm sure Hodgins will come up with some sort of miracle information from the particulates. The man's a genius...don't tell him I said that."

"Why would I? Hodgins knows he's a genius. He doesn't need you to confirm it."

He smiled and shook his head. "Thanks for that, Bones. So, hey, if we don't have anything else to discuss about the case right now, we might as well enjoy our lunch. Anything new with you?"

"Since last night?," she asked wryly.

"Yes, smart-aleck, since last night." He hadn't forgotten about her meeting with CFS, and he was hoping she'd tell him what was going on.

Brennan stared at him for a minute before returning her attention to her salad and saying, "Angie's parents signed away all legal rights to her."

Booth closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was hurt on the child's behalf, but he also knew that she was probably better off without them. "What's going to happen to Shadow?"

"Well," she said, without looking up from her plate, "I'm thinking of adopting her." She waited for a reply that never came. Finally she looked up, into the shining eyes of her partner. "Booth?"

"Of course you are." He knew the smile on his face was a mixture of pride, relief and love. He wanted to say more, but he didn't trust his voice.

"That's all you have to say?" She had expected him to be skeptical, or at the very least surprised. She remembered his reaction when Cam became Michelle's legal guardian, which was why she hadn't wanted to have this discussion last night. She had been sure he would bring up all the reasons why this was an irrational thing to do.

"What else is there? Of course you're going to adopt her. You and Angie, you guys belong together. You fit."

"But what about the fact that I have no experience with children? What about my single-minded devotion to my work, and my lack of 'heart'? What about the fact that Angie is obviously quite traumatized, and I have no use for psychology? You always say that I'm too honest with kids and that I try to tell them inappropriate things. What about all of that?"

Booth's smile never wavered. "One thing I've never believed you lacked, Bones, was heart. As for the rest, what does any of that matter? You're already Angie's mother. You're exactly what she needs, and you're just right for her. The only thing that will change will be a birth certificate- a piece of paper."

"Booth, I don't think you're being very objective."

"Probably not. Sorry, Bones, but I don't think I'm capable of being objective where you and Angie are concerned. Of course, that doesn't mean I'm not right."

"Temperance? Booth?" The partners started at the unexpected interruption.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you...or eavesdrop, but, you know...big ears," Hacker pulled at his earlobes.

"Director Hacker," Booth stood to shake the other man's hand, trying to disguise his annoyance. "I was just grabbing lunch with Bones."

"I see that." Hacker smiled at Brennan. "Hello, Temperance."

"Andrew," Brennan responded with a nod and a wave.

"As I said, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but did I just hear you say that you're adopting the little girl from the crime scene?"

"Oh, well," Brennan stammered, caught off guard, "It's a possibility. Nothing has been decided."

"Well, you would be a wonderful mother, Temperance. I really do mean that," he said sincerely.

"Thank you, Andrew. That's kind of you."

"Hey! Maybe I could meet her sometime? Does she like music? You know, I have that weekly bluegrass thing. A lot of the guys bring their kids, so there would be other children there to play with. We let them play around with the instruments sometime."

_Right, bluegrass. _"Maybe," Brennan said noncommittally.

Booth's fists clenched involuntarily. Just when he was feeling good again, Hacker waltzes back into the picture. He wasn't sure he'd be able to hide his feelings as well as he did before if Brennan tried yet another go with Hacker...and God knew he didn't do such a great job of hiding his feelings the first time around. He was so focused on trying to push back the red haze that had clouded his vision that he didn't realize that his boss had already left until his Bones started snapping her fingers in his face. Refusing to let Hacker shake his confidence, Booth forced himself to relax. "Looks like Hacker hasn't quite given up the dream, huh?"

"If the 'dream' you're referring to is a sexual relationship with me, then you might be right." Booth tried not to choke on the sip of water he'd just taken. "Of course, if he was trying to entice me by proving that he could be a suitable father figure, bluegrass was the wrong way to go. I really hate that music. Besides, I feel I was quite clear about my feelings in my response to his note."

"Come on, Bones, you mean you don't find the upright bass sexy?...Wait a second. Did you say 'note'? As in, Hacker wrote you a note? Like a love note?"

Brennan rolled her eyes. "I suppose that would be an accurate characterization."

"And you turned him down?" Booth felt the grin spread across his face as she nodded. "Can I see it?"

"See what?"

"The note!"

"No! You and Angela, you're just alike!"

"Come on, Bones. My boss wrote you a love note. Like a little kid, or some man in a Jane Austen book. That's priceless. You have to let me read it."

"I don't even still have it. Not that I would let you read it anyway. You shouldn't make fun of Andrew. He's perfectly nice. It's not his fault that he's..."

"A doofus?" Booth finished for her.

Brennan gave him a glare. "You know, we were in the middle of a serious conversation when he interrupted."

Booth dropped the subject of Hacker immediately. "Yes, we were. Look, Bones, you want an objective opinion on whether or not you would be a good mother to Shadow, right?"

"That's right."

"Well," he said, taking a bite of his hamburger, "I'm not your man. I already know the right thing to do, and I know you're going to do it. I'm pretty sure you know too, but if you're looking for objectivity, maybe you should talk to Sweets."

"Sweets?"

"Yeah, I mean, he's a psychologist, so he can speak to the whole trauma thing. He knows you pretty well, and he was adopted himself. He knows what's at stake."

Brennan nodded slowly, weighing her options. "Sweets. That makes sense." She started gathering her things. "I wonder if he's in his office now." She stood and pushed in her chair.

"Wait. Are you going now?" Booth called after her retreating profile. "Well, tell the kid that I want my profile!" He smiled as he watched her go, taking another big bite of his burger.

**TBC**


	24. Nothing I Wouldn't Do

**Author's Note: So, I ended up having time to fit in this quick little chapter in between family time. Strangely enough, when I first came up with the idea for this story, this was the first scene that came to mind.**

_Chapter 19: Nothing I Wouldn't Do._

"Agent Pelt's refusal to wear a black tie due to its, quote, 'association with funerals', is likely a manifestation of his perc- Dude, don't you ever knock?" Sweets shut off his digital recorder and threw his hands up in frustration.

"You're speaking into a recorder about an agent and his tie. I'd hardly say I'm interrupting something important."

For a moment, Sweets considered arguing. Then, he remembered who he was dealing with and conceded defeat. "How can I help you, Dr. Brennan?"

Sweets took note of the fact that the doctor seemed even more defiant than usual...as if he was somehow inconveniencing her by dropping everything he was working on to talk to her...as if _he _had been the one to barge in on _her. _He recognized the defense mechanism and mentally prepared himself. She wouldn't be so standoffish if whatever had brought her here wasn't really big.

She folded her arms over her chest and quirked her eyebrows haughtily. "Booth wanted me to tell you that you're taking too long to complete our profile."

The psychologist snorted, knowing that his most fascinating patient was just warming up before getting to the good stuff. "Well, Dr. Brennan, perhaps you could tell Agent Booth that I am a psychologist, not a magician and that profiling is not a party trick. It takes time, and I'm working on it." He smiled at her sweetly.

She returned the insincere smile and took a seat before responding, "Perhaps you could tell him yourself, Dr. Sweets. I'm not a carrier pigeon."

This time, Sweets' smile was real. "Then do you care to tell me why you're really here?"

Brennan sighed as if to brace herself, then lifted her chin and met his eyes challengingly. "As you know, I don't really...value psychology. It's imprecise. It deals with feelings and motivations that can't be quantified and are largely irrelevant. I mean, what matters is that you do or don't do something- not _why_ you do it..."

"Wow, Dr. Brennan, you're right. I actually do know this. In fact, we've had this exact same conversation multiple times...only this is the first time you've ever come all the way over to the Hoover in the middle of the day for the sole purpose of having it."

"I'm saying this all wrong. See, Sweets?," she said, as if she were proving some hidden point, "This is what I do. This is part of the problem, one of the reasons why I shouldn't even be thinking of doing it."

It was obvious that he was missing a very important component of her argument with herself- namely, it's subject. "Perhaps you could tell me what it is you shouldn't be thinking of doing?"

"Perhaps you could stop overusing the word 'perhaps'," Brennan snapped, before her face crumpled. Recovering her composure, she started over with determination. "I apologize for being short with you, Dr. Sweets. What I was trying to say earlier is that, while I do not really value the field of psychology, I have come to value _you. _I have a decision to make, and I believe you could be helpful to me in the process...if you're willing, since it is personal and has no bearing on my work with the FBI."

He was beaming, and he hated himself for it. Did he have to be so obvious? _"I have come to value_ you._" _Six itty-bitty words, and he was barely able to refrain from doing cartwheels around his office...or worse, lunging across the desk and hugging her. Seeing that she was staring at him and his goofy smile, he worked to compose himself. _Calm down, Lance. You're a professional, not a ten-year-old girl who just won Justin Bieber tickets. _Straightening his tie and putting on his best "Your faith in me is not misplaced" expression, he said, "I would be more than happy to be of assistance. So, tell me about this decision." He gave himself a mental high-five for avoiding the use of 'perhaps.'

She was nervous, and she hated herself for it. It was just Sweets. It wasn't as though his opinion was more valid than anyone else's. So what if he said she would make a terrible mother? So what if he thought Angie would be better off in a group home? He was just a kid himself...so why was she suddenly feeling as if he could crush her? "Well, you know my foster daughter, Angie."

"Of course. Hey, is this about the fact that she doesn't talk?"

"While she's awake." At Sweets' confused look, she clarified, "Angie doesn't talk while she's awake, but sometimes she talks in her sleep."

Sensing that what she was saying was important, Sweets followed up. "What does she say in her sleep?"

Brennan swallowed and looked down at her hands. "She says, 'Please don't leave me.'"

Sweets was instantly sympathetic, knowing what it must be doing to Brennan to care for a little girl who, in her dreams, would vocalize the very same sentiment that she herself struggled with daily. "I know that's gut-wrenching to hear, but given Angie's background, it's not surpri-"

"That's not why I'm here," Brennan interrupted. "I'm here because Angie's parents signed away their parental rights."

Suddenly, Sweets understood the purpose of her impromptu visit. "Which makes Angie eligible for adoption. That's the decision you're facing, right? Whether or not you should be the one to adopt her?"

Brennan nodded, her posture indicating that she was preparing to be knocked flat. "That's correct. Of course, I assume that someone who does value psychology might compare my past to Angie's. They would probably say that I was over-identifying with a child in danger of spending years in the system and that by adopting her, I would only be trying to give my own story a happier ending. I think they would say that my motivations for adopting Angie would be selfish and that I was only thinking of how it would feel to lose someone else that I care about, rather than considering that there are more suitable parents out there for Angie." She cut her eyes to him. His turn to make a play.

Sweets tapped his pencil on his desk, taking a moment to choose his words. Finally, he simply asked, "Do you want her?"

"I'm very busy," she answered. "My work schedule is unpredictable and all-consuming. I know nothing about parenting. I'm single. People don't seem to think I'm fun..."

"Dr. Brennan," Sweets broke in, "Do you want her?"

She held his intense gaze for a full minute before responding passionately, "Yes. Yes, I want her, but if there's someone who would be better than me, then I want that person to have her."

Sweets was once again beaming, but this time he didn't hate himself. "That, what you just said, is why there is no one better for Angie than you. You want what's best for her, even if what's best for her hurts you. You _want_ her. You and I, Dr. Brennan, we know the value of being _wanted. _Sure, maybe they'd find someone else to adopt Angie eventually. Maybe it would be a couple, with normal jobs, who've always wanted a child...but, you know what? You don't just want a child. You want _Angie._ Angie, with everything she's been through. Angie, who doesn't speak, but who cries out in the night. Angie, who might have a lifetime's worth of challenges to overcome. Do you have any idea how perfect that is? Do you have any idea how lucky she is to have you? And, you know what else? For all of the damage her biological parents may have done, for all of the hurt she may feel at being abused and abandoned, she is also going to know what it means to be wanted...what it means to be loved and cared for. It's so much more than a lot of kids ever get. It's your decision, whether to adopt or not, but if you're asking me if I think you'll be a good mother to that little girl, my answer is an emphatic yes."

She knew she should say something, offer some kind of response, but all she could do was stand there with tears running down her cheeks. She was_ crying_, for god's sake...in front of _Sweets_. She couldn't help it, though. She'd always assumed that Sweets thought of her as an odd, unpleasant puzzle that he was compelled to try to understand. She hadn't believed that he would approve of her adopting a child, and she didn't realize until he started speaking just how much his approval meant to her. Still, she couldn't just sit there, surrounded by his silly stress balls, and cry like a little baby...how would she ever intimidate him again? Swiping at her eyes and pulling herself together, she responded, "Thanks, Sweets." Clearing her throat, she decided she might as well ask the other question that had been on her mind. "Look, I know you work exclusively with the FBI, but do you think you could recommend a psychologist that works with children? She's been seeing a counselor that works with CFS, but that will end when she's no longer a ward of the State. It might be good for her to have someone to talk to...assuming she decides to start talking."

He thought about making a joke- something about the irony of her request in light of her oft stated views on psychology- but one look at her changed his mind. Her entire being was practically screaming that there wasn't anything she wouldn't do to help her little girl. "Yeah," he said, "I might know someone."

Brennan nodded as she stood to go. Just before she reached the door, she turned to face Sweets once again. "You'll be around too, right? Not for the psychology stuff, but to just talk to her, or play with her, or...?"

"Dr. Brennan," now Sweets thought he might cry too, "Are you asking me to be a part of your hamlet of no more than 800 people?"

Grateful for a break in the intensity, Brennan laughed. "Well, you have all those video games and stuff- what if she's into that?" She cocked her head to the side, "I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me today."

Sweets knew that an expression of gratitude from Dr. Temperance Brennan was nothing to be taken lightly. "It was my pleasure." Going with the mood of the day, he leaned over and gave her an impulsive hug. She stiffened, but didn't immediately push him away. Stepping back so that she could leave, he met her eyes one last time. "You'll be great."

**TBC**


	25. Angie's House

_Chapter 20: Angie's House_

"I can't find her. I can't find her! She's not here- she's not anywhere! Please! Please, Booth, what do I do? What do I do? I can't..."

"Bones, take a breath and tell me what's going on. Is it Angie? What do you mean, you can't find her?" Booth was grabbing his gun and his keys, determined to get to her house as quickly as possible. Seconds ago he had been lounging on his couch watching a baseball game, but that was before he answered his phone and heard the panic-stricken voice of his partner on the other line.

"I mean I can't find her! I was working on my book, I thought she was playing...I called her for dinner, but she didn't come. She wasn't in her room. She wasn't anywhere! I'm outside now, Booth. None of my neighbors have seen her, and I can't find her! I let her out of my sight, and you can't do that with kids! Booth, you have to watch kids! I can't find her. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god..."

He slammed the door of his SUV and flipped on the siren. "Bones, you have to calm down, okay? I know you're scared, but you're not going to be able to help her if you're hysterical. I'll be there in minutes, okay? Just stay on the phone with me while you look. Is there anywhere she might have tried to walk to?"

"By herself? No, no there's nothing. I was in the living room, I don't know how she could have gotten past me...I don't know..."

He listened as her voice broke into a sob, and his heart clenched. He added his horn to the siren, letting anyone in his path know that they should _get out of his way._ "Just hold on, Baby. I'm coming."

oOo

Siren flashing, he pulled up on the curb in front of Brennan's building and jumped out of the car. He took one look at his partner and knew that he was about to encounter a side of Bones he'd never seen before. Her eyes were wide, and there were tears streaming down her paler-than-usual face. She was visibly trembling as she paced by the entrance, oblivious to the attempts of the doorman to assist her.

He closed the space between them as quickly as he could and captured her shaking body in a tight embrace. He felt her relax against him for a brief moment before she pushed back. She gazed at him with a vulnerability he had never witnessed from her before, her eyes searching his. "I don't know what to do," she whispered. "Booth, tell me what I should do."

He pushed down the part of him that was just as terrified as she was- the part that loved this woman and that had come to love that little girl. That wasn't the Booth either of them needed right now. No, they needed the Special Agent who was damn good at his job and who would stop at nothing until little Shadow was back home, where she belonged. Forcing a note of calm control in his voice, he placed both hands on his partner's shoulders and forced her to look him in the eye. "Look, you said that you were in the living room, correct?" She nodded, and he continued, "Then she couldn't have gotten out the door without you noticing. Bones, that means she's still in the house, okay?"

She shook her head frantically. "I looked everywhere. She wasn't there. What if someone took her? What if they came in through one of the windows. Oh god, Booth..."

"Calm down, Temperance. You have to pull it together. You said you looked all over the apartment- did you notice any of the windows open or broken?" She shook her head no, her eyes still wide with panic. "Okay, that's good. That's good. We're going to go back inside, and we're going to tear your apartment apart. If we don't find her in five minutes, I'll call for back up, and we'll have this entire neighborhood swarming with the best agents in the FBI, okay? We'll find her, no matter what."

oOo

As they headed back inside, Booth had Brennan recount the last several hours. She explained that she had taken Angie for a picnic lunch by the water. She had been trying to find the right way to tell the little girl that she wouldn't be able to go back to her parents and to bring up the possibility of adoption. Angie had loved the water, and she'd spent nearly half an hour chasing a large monarch butterfly. She'd been so happy and carefree that Brennan just couldn't bear to ruin it by bringing up the potentially heartbreaking topic of the little girl's parents.

When they returned, Angie had been exhausted and had immediately taken a nap. Brennan used the time to work on her latest novel in the living room. Angie woke up after approximately forty-five minutes; she walked into the living room with an armload of 'My Little Ponies'. She indicated that she wanted Brennan to play with her, but Brennan wasn't at a good stopping point, so she told the child that they would play later, after dinner. Angie had returned to her room to play, or so Brennan had thought. She hadn't really heard her, but Angie never made much noise. After another hour, Brennan wrapped up her work and started on dinner. Usually Angie would join her in the kitchen as she cooked, but this time she didn't. Brennan hadn't been concerned, because she figured that the little girl was caught up in playing.

She did become concerned, however, when Angie didn't come when called. Angie never had to be asked twice to do anything. Brennan went to the bedroom to check on her, but she wasn't there. The ponies were scattered all over the floor. She began to panic almost immediately, even though she knew it was irrational. She checked under the bed and in the closet; she looked in her own bedroom, her office and the bathroom. After she talked to neighbors and searched outside, she had called Booth.

Booth took notes as she spoke, trying not to focus on how her voice shook, or the way that small sobs would mix with her words. He was in full-on detective mode as he methodically searched every inch of of Brennan's apartment. He could see the evidence of her decidedly more frenzied investigation. He moved toward Angie's bedroom with a growing feeling of dread. Opening the door, he stared at the scattered toys, the open closet, and the bed that had been torn apart in Brennan's search. For a moment, he was paralyzed. Angie wasn't in the room; he'd done a search of other rooms, just in case, but he knew he should leave this one alone. If Angie was really missing, this room was likely a crime scene, and he didn't want to disturb it any more than it had already been.

Trying to keep his thoughts off his face, he gave Brennan what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he left the room without touching a thing. He entered Brennan's office- the only room in the apartment that he'd yet to search. He noted that Bones didn't follow him this time. She stood in the hallway, literally wringing her hands. They both knew that if Angie wasn't in that room, they would have to let go of the pretense that everything was fine and begin to explore the possibility that something horrible had happened.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he set about checking in the closet, under the desk, and behind the bookshelf. When he opened one of the small doors on the credenza, he was hit by a wave of relief. "Bones," he called, "I think you should come in here!"

She could hear the smile in his voice, and she felt the pain in her chest start to ease up, just a little. Stepping into the office, she saw Booth crouched in front of her credenza, opening his arms to a sleepy Angie, climbing out of her hiding spot. She heard him start to laugh as he stood with the disoriented little girl in his grip and turned her around for Brennan to see. She was dressed in an old lab coat of Brennan's that Angela had altered to fit her. In one hand, she clutched her toy microscope; in the other, she held a book on butterflies Dr. Hodgins had given her.

Booth was howling with laughter- more from hysterical relief than actual amusement, but still. "You were trying to be a squint, weren't you, Shadow? You found you're own office and everything!" He addressed Brennan, gasping out words between peals of laughter. "She...she, oh god...she was mimicking the squints...Hodgins...and she, she...fell asleep."

For a moment, Brennan thought she was going to start laughing too, but somewhere between her chest and her throat, her laughter turned into sobs. She burst into tears and, not wanting Angie to see her so out of control, quickly walked out of the room.

oOo

She didn't stop walking until she was outside the building, exactly where she had been waiting for Booth only a few minutes earlier. Leaning against the rough brick, she let her tears overtake her, releasing the terror that had consumed her from the moment she realized that Angie wasn't in her room. The whole ordeal had lasted less than twenty minutes, but it would be ingrained in her memory for as long as she lived. She'd panicked, completely. She had ignored every rational impulse and had acted upon unadulterated emotion. In those twenty minutes, every horrible thing that could imaginably happen to a child had happened to Angie in her imagination. Even now, when she knew the little girl was fine, she couldn't stop hands from shaking.

She slumped against the wall, waiting for her body to come down from the effects of the excess adrenaline it had been secreting. As her heart rate returned to normal, her face began to burn with embarrassment. Angie had been in the house all along. She had been fine, all along. She cringed remembering her terrified voice when she'd called him and his laughter when he'd found the little girl safe and sound.

_So what? So I was scared? So I 'freaked,' as Angela would say? That's what parents do, right? _She shook off her humiliation and worry and headed back to her little girl.

oOo

Booth had carried Angie into the living room to wait for Brennan. "You scared us, kiddo! You have to be careful with old people like us. Our hearts can't take it." He gave her a little nudge, but nothing could distract her from the vigil her eyes kept on the front door.

"It's okay, Shadow. She'll be right back," he soothed. Pulling her into his lap, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Did Parker ever tell you about the time I lost him on the carousel? You know, the one in the park? He was supposed to be on it, but I couldn't find him. Bones and I, we ran around calling his name. I've never been so scared. Turns out, he was right behind me, getting an ice cream cone. When I found him, I yelled at him...made him cry. I didn't mean to, though. I wasn't mad at him. I just really loved him, and I was upset at the thought of anything happening to him. It's just what parents do, you know?"

She looked at him with wide eyes, and he realized that she didn't know. _That's okay, baby girl, you will._

oOo

Brennan paused in the entrance to the living room, taking in the sight of Booth comforting Angie...her daughter. Walking over to the sofa, she pulled Angie from Booth's lap into her own and gave her a tight hug. Looking down into the worried little eyes staring up at her, she said, "You scared me. I know you were just playing, Angie, but you can't go off and hide where I can't find you. Remember our deal about you not talking? You still have to find a way to let me know that you're safe, okay? I love you so, so much, and I need you to be safe." She tugged the little girl against her once again and held on tight. Eventually, Angie pulled back, then leaned up to flutter her eyelashes against Brennan's cheek...her way of saying, _I'm sorry._

Booth's heart ached at the tenderness of the moment. He felt like an intruder, but as he stood to leave, Brennan stopped him with one of their silent communications. _Stay. _He sat back down, putting his arm around them both.

Drawing strength from his presence, Brennan knew it was time to be honest with the little girl. "Angie, we have some other things we need to talk about too, okay?" The little girl nodded, and Brennan could almost see her putting up defenses, bracing herself for whatever blow was about to be delivered. "First, I need you to know that I was serious earlier when I said I loved you." She glanced at Booth to make sure she was on the right track, and when he nodded encouragingly, she continued, "Angie, your mom and dad...well, they've decided that they can't be good parents to you. They love you, but they know they weren't very good at taking care of you, and they want you to be with someone who can be good at it. It wasn't because of anything you did wrong. You have always been a very good girl. They were the ones who did something wrong. Do you understand?"

Angie nodded, emotionless. Wanting to be sure that there was no room for misunderstanding, Brennan added, "You won't be seeing them again. I know they will miss you, and it's okay for you to feel sad and miss them, but they just want you to be able to have a happy life, okay?" Brennan knew she was attributing feelings to Angie's parents that they may not actually have, but she was pretty sure this was one of those times when kindness was more important than accuracy. "Um, so, this means that you will get a new family now. Remember that I said I love you? Well, I would like it very much if I could be your new family. Would that be okay with you Angie? Staying here, with me, forever?"

oOo

The little girl looked from Brennan to Booth. They both seemed nervous, but she was a little confused. She had already decided a long time ago that she was staying there forever. Of course she was- she didn't want to leave her mama. She nodded, giving them both the '_Duh' _face learned from Parker. Suddenly, the adults didn't seem so nervous anymore. They were laughing and smiling, and Angie felt good because earlier she had scared them, but now she was making them happy.. She giggled too, thinking that one day she would tell Parker that he was right...grown-ups are silly.

**TBC**

**So, something like this happened to me once. I was working with an Ethiopian family- seven kids and three adults. I was picking them up for an appointment, and I started counting everyone when we got outside the apartment building. The mom and I both realized we were one short, so we raced back into the apartment, trying to find the missing two year-old. We couldn't find him _anywhere._ I was scared to death. I finally opened the door on one of the cabinets, and he peeped his little head out and said, "Abdetta's house!" I guess the little guy just wanted to find his own space in the crowded apartment. I could certainly sympathize.**

**Also, for those of you who have read all my other author's notes, this chapter actually contained a pretty big clue as to some of the major events that are coming up soon in this story.**


	26. Interlude: On Temperance Brennan

_Interlude: On Temperance Brennan_

Well, my friends, we've come to the end. It is with a heavy heart that I begin this, the last of our little chats. I have so enjoyed our time together, and I hope you feel the same. I've had some time to consider just how much of myself to reveal. I told you earlier that I wished I could tell you my name, just to see your reaction. Unfortunately, that would be just too self-indulgent of me. I don't want to deprive you of the joy of putting together the pieces all by yourself. We love it, don't we? That feeling of accomplishment, of self-efficacy? You can even see it in babies, the exhilaration that comes from doing it _all by yourself._ I won't take that away from you... consider it my parting gift.

So, I won't be telling you my name, _however_ I have repeatedly stated my desire to play fair with you. As a result, I feel that it is my duty to share with you how I came to be part of this particular story. Now, think back on what I've already shared: strangulation is my first love, women are my preferred victims, I like things personal, I like things close. I believe I've at least hinted that much of my enjoyment is derived from the observation of my victims' expressions. What I've never said explicitly is that my obsession is with their _eyes. _You learn everything that's possible to learn about a person by watching their eyes through those final moments. Childhood dreams and disappointments, adult sources of pride and regret... they all dance across the eyes, just before they close.

The eyes are the answer. They are why I'm here. My involvement in this story began a long time ago, much longer ago than you would believe, even if you knew my name. It began in a bookstore. She was staring at me from a poster advertising a signing. Temperance Brennan and her blue eyes. Had circumstances been different, those eyes and their final closing might have remained only fodder for my dreams. _But_...it turned out that she was _so close._ She was right there, and she could be mine. You understand, don't you, how rare it is to actually have access to the object of your most favored fantasies?

Now, this is what makes me special. I didn't just rush out and snatch what I wanted. No, I took my time. I planned, I waited, I dreamed. When opportunities presented themselves, I took advantage. Remember my partner? That was just a fortuitous coincidence. Dr. Temperance Brennan was investigating one of her crimes, presenting the perfect opportunity for a mutually beneficial collaboration. Of course, my partner never believed she'd make it out alive. I, on the other hand, knew better...I never would have allowed it otherwise. Strangulation, remember? You can't watch her eyes close when she's underground, and you're above. No, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that a certain _special agent_ would never let his partner die in the ground.

Everyone knows his feelings for her- they've been obvious from the beginning. What I didn't fully realize were her feelings for him. They weren't immediately obvious in her eyes, which are so often cold. My partner, though, she helped me see. She took the special agent, and the look in Temperance Brennan's eyes was decidedly warm. For this, I will always appreciate poor Miss Taffet. Without her, I might have missed the opportunity to fully enjoy the culmination of my plan. I would have kept things simple, but now I see the benefit of a little elaboration. If Temperance Brennan's eyes will be the last I ever see, I will fully enjoy them. I will watch them close, but I won't take her completely by surprise. I want her, my final victim, to understand how throughly she's been fooled. I'll watch her eyes close, but not until she's experienced the horror of watching his do the same. I won't have much time, but I've been careful. I'll have enough.

Goodbye, my friends. You'll see me soon.


	27. A Day to Build a Dream On

**Author's Note: Sorry to take so long with this one. Work, family and a general malaise brought on by my inability to stop reading spoilers kept me from being able to write last week. I'm recovering.**

_Chapter 21: A Day to Build a Dream On_

When they reached the door, Brennan looked down at her little girl and winked. "Okay, Angie, just like we talked about, remember?" Angie nodded confidently, her entire posture proclaiming 'I've got this.'

Brennan laughed and picked her up so she could press the bell. "Okay, then. Here we go."

Seconds later, the door was opened by two giddy Booths. Brennan looked them up and down before rolling her eyes. She couldn't tell which one was more excited. Parker was practically vibrating with anticipation, and Booth immediately launched into a list of rides he wanted to ride and junk food he wanted to try. Eventually Brennan had to clear her throat and look pointedly at Angie to get him to notice that the little girl hadn't arrived empty-handed. She watched as Booth processed Angie's offering, a huge grin spreading across his face.

He bent down to take the largest bunch of dandelions he had ever seen from the child's outstretched hand. "Shadow, you shouldn't have! Parker, why don't you get a vase for our lovely bouquet here."

Parker was skeptical. "Uh, Dad, do you really have a vase?"

"A cup, Parker, just grab a cup."

Dodging his father's playful swat, Parker grabbed Angie's hand. "Come on Shadow, you can help me decide which of Dad's cups is the least ugly."

When the kids disappeared into the kitchen, Brennan raised her eyebrows. "Do you like your flowers, Agent Booth?"

Booth raised the dandelions to his nose and sniffed dramatically. "I love my flowers, Dr. Brennan."

"Well, you were quite clear on your requirements."

"Yes, and you always follow instructions so perfectly. Of course, I'm just glad you're willing to concede that this is, indeed, a date."

She gasped indignantly, "There has been no such concession!"

"Uh,uh, Bones," he said with a snort, "Don't try to back out now. Not after giving me these lovely flowers."

"Angie gave them to you, not me. She picked them from the cracks in the sidewalk...they're not even flowers, they're weeds," she hissed.

"Shhh," he clutched the flowers to his chest, patting them protectively, "Don't talk about them that way. You'll hurt their feelings!"

"Okay, now you're just being silly."

He stepped closer and tilted her chin so that she was looking up at him, "Yes, yes I am, Bones. And do you know why? Because we are going to a carnival today. We are going to ride rides and eat cotton candy and play rigged games. This is a whole day devoted to being silly. You got that?"

As much as she hated to admit it, the combination of his proximity and the way his eyes sparkled when he spoke of their plans for the day had her more than a little flustered. She was trying to formulate a snappy response when the door to the kitchen opened.

Parker took one look at the adults and clapped his hand over Angie's eyes. "You guys aren't going to kiss, are you?" He sounded mildly disgusted. "Because I really don't think we need to see that."

Brennan's face grew adorably red, but Booth just chuckled smoothly as he withdrew his fingers from her chin. "No way, Parks," he answered, placing the dandelions in the cup his son held. "Everyone knows that the kissing comes at the _end _of the date. Now," he clapped his hands decisively, "Who's ready to hit the road?"

The children cheered and began racing Booth to the car as Brennan trailed behind, wondering exactly what she'd gotten herself into.

oOo

An hour later, they were on the hunt for cotton candy, having just finished an epic bumper boat battle. It had been boys against girls, and Brennan and Booth were arguing over who had won.

"That first bump didn't count, Bones. You guys didn't even do it on purpose. You didn't know how to operate the thing, so you were just randomly bumping into anything in your path."

"Your argument makes absolutely no sense, Booth. The whole point of bumper boats is to randomly bump into anything in your path. Stop being a sore loser."

"Okay, I am _so_ not being a sore loser. I am just trying to point out that bumper boats is about strategy, of which you had none."

"Oh, please-"

Angie looked up at Parker and shrugged; he rolled his eyes in return. "Hey guys, look, cotton candy!" He pointed to a stand a few paces away, and, just like he knew he would, his dad instantly dropped the argument and ran towards the sweets.

"Now this," Booth said, tearing off a clump of pink spun sugar and stuffing it into Brennan's mouth, "is good stuff."

Brennan squinted, letting the confection melt on her tongue. "It tastes like...sugary air."

"I love sugary air," Parker sighed, tearing off a hunk of cotton candy and flopping down on bench. Angie imitated him, making it clear that she, too, appreciated sugary air.

Brennan watched them both and laughed, then something occurred to her that made her laugh harder.

Booth smiled and poked her in the side. "What's so funny, Bones?"

_Funny Bones_. That made Brennan laugh even harder. She was beginning to think they added a chemical to cotton candy that made you loopy. Eventually she was able to answer him. "I was just thinking about how I'd never really been to a carnival before. I mean, you found my brother in one, and we've had a body in one, but I've never just been for fun." She started laughing again.

"How's that funny?" He was looking at her with a mixture of happiness and confusion.

"I don't know," she said, feeling one of those smiles that you can't really control make its way across her lips. "It just is." Now they were both laughing.

"You guys are weird today," Parker shouted from his spot on the bench, causing the partners to look at each other, then double over in laughter.

oOo

By the time the sun began to set, the foursome had ridden every ride the carnival had to offer...every ride but one. It was simple, really. It basically looked like a giant elevator that took its occupants far above the trees, then sent them hurtling toward the ground. Parker had been eyeing it all day, nervously at first, but with increasing confidence.

Now they stood right in front of it, and Parker gave a nod of determination. "Alright. I'm gonna do it. Who's with me?"

Brennan and Booth exchanged a smile. He could see that she wanted to ride that cracked out elevator as much as his son did, so he offered up an "it's all you" gesture. Her smile widened as she told Parker that she would be happy to accompany him. They headed for the line while Booth and Angie found a bench that was perfect for observing them.

"Well, kiddo," Booth said as he wrapped his arm around the little girl, "I don't know about you, but I think they're crazy for wanting to ride that thing." He looked down at her and smiled. "You know what's so great about you, Shadow? Well, there are a lot of great things, but one of the greatest is that I know you can be trusted with secrets. So here's mine- I'm terrified of roller coasters. They scare me to death. I scream like a little girl when I'm forced to ride them...no offense."

Angie gave him a look that let him know that, while she wasn't offended, she was also much too brave to scream on something as silly as a roller coaster.

"What can I say, Shadow, I'm just a big scaredy cat...just don't tell your mom...or Parker."

Angie nodded solemnly. He could trust her.

"You know what else I don't like? Clowns." He shuddered. "Creepy."

Just then a voice asked, "A flower hat for the young lady?" A clown appeared, placing the balloon hat on Angie's head. In an instant, the child was on her feet, holding out both arms, shielding Booth. The very confused clown quickly found another family with whom to share his balloons.

"Shadow!" Booth exclaimed, "You're my hero!"

She looked back at him and giggled. The clown was still in the general area, handing out balloons. Picking up the little girl and holding her out in front of him, Booth made a big show of peaking over her head and, upon sighting the clown, gasping and ducking back behind her. They repeated this game over and over, making Angie laugh louder than he had ever heard her. The sixth time Booth peeked out from behind a laughing Angie, it wasn't a clown he saw, but rather a very amused Brennan and Parker.

"Booth?" Brennan waited for an explanation.

Booth glanced at Angie who winked at him to let him know she had his back. His tone was all innocence when he replied, "What, Bones? There's nothing to see here."

oOo

In what was becoming a very familiar scene, Booth stood at Brennan's sink, drying and putting away the dishes she washed. "Wow, Bones. That was a great dinner."

"As I said earlier, you were very clear on your requirements when I invited you on this little outing."

"Well, as I said earlier, you are very good at following instructions."

"Don't get used to it," she said with a soft laugh.

"No worries. I haven't forgotten who I'm dealing with here."

The pair stood at the sink in companionable silence, putting away the dishes like they did it every night. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like they were a family. Suddenly, Brennan had an impulse she decided not to fight. She grabbed Booth in a tight embrace and kissed him on the cheek. She let him go and started to turn back to the sink, but he grabbed her hand and forced her to face him.

"What was that for?"

"Just following instructions- you said there had to be a kiss at the end...and you made her laugh, you always make her laugh...and this was kind of the best day ever- even though I know that something like that cannot really be quantified."

Booth had to laugh at the last part. No, he had certainly not forgotten who he was dealing with. "You make me laugh...and I have to agree with you on the best day ever thing. You bought me three cotton candies."

That made her smile, but her expression quickly turned serious. "Booth, Angela said we swerved."

He put down his dish towel and leaned against the counter to meet her eyes. "Do you think we swerved, Bones?"

She looked at him worriedly. "She said you can only swerve so many times before you crash."

For the second time that day, he reached out his hand and tipped her face up towards him. Stroking her cheek, he said gently, "Statistically, I suppose she's right...but, Bones? I promise- you don't need to worry about a crash." He leaned down until his lips were the space of a breath above hers. "Also, you got that end of the night kiss all wrong." With that, he closed the space between them and tenderly placed his lips on hers as both of their eyes slid closed.

It's possible that the kiss would have transformed from soft and sweet to hard and demanding. It's possible that their hands would have begun to explore and Sweets' god forsaken dam would have finally broken, right there in her kitchen. It's possible...but they'll never know. Just as their lips touched, the kitchen door swung open and Parker Booth yelped.

"Oh, come on! Close your eyes, Shadow, it's for real this time!"

Booth smiled and shook his head as he pulled away. He grabbed Parker and threw him over his shoulder. "Come on, my little Puritan. Let's get you home and put you to bed. Thanks for the date, Bones," he called as he headed toward the front door. His partner was apparently too stunned to answer, but he figured it was okay, because Angie managed to flash him a secretive thumbs-up. Definitely the best day ever...and it had nothing at all to do with cotton candy.

**TBC**


	28. Channeling Cinderella

**Author's Note: This one should be titled "How I Spent the Saturday Afternoon I Was _Supposed_ to Dedicate to My Current Ethnographic Research Project." Oh well. **

_Chapter 22: Channeling Cinderella_

There is a truth that Temperance Brennan had once known, but had long since forgotten. The memory of a kiss- a kiss that is delivered sweetly and spontaneously, without the tarnish of alcohol, blackmail, or desperation- can be even more pleasant than the kiss itself. Consequently, she spent the remainder of the weekend replaying the moment in the kitchen when Booth's lips touched hers. Without her permission, the memory brought a dreamy glaze to her eyes and a secret grin to her face.

She hadn't spoken to him since. To do so could be dangerous. It might mean facing that the kiss had been nothing, the culmination of a joke about the carnival being a date. It might mean facing that the kiss had been everything, a sign that it was time to make choices she wasn't sure that she'd ever be ready to make. She wanted to hold onto the memory, unencumbered by consequences, for as long as possible.

Of course, 'for as long as possible' is never very long if you happen to work with the one person you're trying to avoid. In the end, Temperance got thirty-six hours and forty-five minutes. Just before she went to bed on Sunday night, she got a text from Booth.

"Sweets has the profile ready. Meet you at the Jeffersonian around 8:30 in the morning."

oOo

Booth flashed his security badge and entered the lab at 8:45 Monday morning. He was jittery, something he hoped he could pass off as being due to the extra cup of coffee he'd had that morning, but that was really a side effect of his uncertainty as to how (or if) Brennan would react to their kiss over the weekend, coupled with his anxiety over what Sweets' profile would reveal. Taking a quick look around, he could tell the psychologist had yet to make it to the lab. _Bones it is._

He opened the door to her office without knocking, an act that never failed to irritate her, and he flopped confidently on her sofa. She looked engrossed in whatever she was staring at on her computer screen, and it was a full two minutes before she acknowledged his presence.

"Is Sweets here?"

Her question was brisk, professional, and he would have taken it to mean that they were going to pretend that nothing _unprofessional_ had ever happened between them, except... Except that there was a softness in her eyes when she looked at him that he was positive had not been there before. Doing a mental victory dance, while also reminding himself that he had vowed not to push her, he forced a business-like note to his voice as he answered, "Any second. Has Cam or Hodgins come up with any new information from the latest victim?"

"Just the basics. Having to work in secret and without access to FBI resources has slowed down our process significantly. Your contact at Metro was finally able to work with Cam over the weekend on the ID. Her name was Amy Brennan. She was seventeen. Apparently she was reported missing from Baltimore a couple of years ago. She had run away from her father after her mother had died. She was strangled with a guitar string late on a Wednesday evening, around 2:30 AM. Just like the others."

"You have the same last name." For some reason, that was the part that stuck with him.

This time when she looked at him, the softness was replaced by weariness. "I know."

"I really want to get this guy."

"Me too," she agreed quietly.

"Well," Sweets interrupted from the doorway, waving a folder in his hand, "I might be able to help with that."

oOo

Within moments, Cam, Hodgins and Angela had joined them in Brennan's office, eager to hear Sweets' profile.

"Took you long enough," Angela snapped.

"Okay, once again I feel the need to remind everyone that psychological profiling is NOT a parlor trick."

"Just...just tell us what you know, Sweets." Cam was exhausted. All of the sneaking around, worrying...everyone in the lab had been on edge for weeks. Nothing had felt normal for quite some time now, and she desperately wanted this case to go away.

"This took a long time, because it isn't your standard profile. I am working under the assumption that the person committing the prostitute murders has some connection to Heather Taffet, when that may not be the case. A killer targeting prostitutes has a very different profile from a killer targeting prostitutes _and _working with psychopathic kidnapper. What I'm trying to say is, I have a profile, but it might be completely irrelevant if these cases aren't actually linked."

"It's fine Sweets," Booth tried to rush him along, "we're all comfortable with the assumption."

"We're not _all_ comfortable with assuming, Booth," Brennan felt she had to interject.

"Your objection is duly noted, Bones," Booth joked. "Carry on, Sweets."

"Fine. The person you're looking for is a white male, most likely in his twenties or thirties. He's a pathological narcissist with sociopathic tendencies. He is employed, likely in a job with some level of prestige. He feels insecure in his job, though he probably doesn't show it. He's a master at hiding his true self. He probably seems harmless, the last person you would suspect capable of anything evil. He's very outgoing and personable, but he secretly harbors a deep hatred of the people around him. He prides himself on his ability to read others, their strengths and weaknesses. He doesn't believe that he has any weaknesses himself, but he is self-deprecating. The faults he shows to the world are a carefully crafted part of his act, his attempt to seem normal...okay, what are you laughing at?"

Hodgins wiped laughter-induced tears from his eyes. "Nothing, it's just that...that...dude, you're totally profiling yourself." At this, Booth, too, let out a snort of laughter.

Sweets threw his hands in the air. "I give up. This isn't even official FBI business, I'm just trying to be helpful to people I _thought_ were friends." He walked to the door, ready to leave.

"Sweets, wait!" Angela cried, placing a hand on his arm. "Don't leave. Don't leave, okay? We're all just really nervous." She gave Hodgins and Booth the evil eye. "This is hard on everyone, and we're just trying to cope. Finish telling us about the profile. Please."

Sweets pouted, but walked away from the door. "Alright, but you guys have _got _to stop accusing me of being a serial killer. Not cool."

Hodgins narrowed his eyes. "If I recall correctly, _you_ accused _me _of being a serial killer last time."

Cam broke in, "Look, no one is accusing anyone in this room of being a serial killer. We all know that no one here is the person committing these crimes."

"Actually," Brennan began, "we can't _kn-..." _

Booth clamped his hand over her mouth, ignoring her glare, as well as the elbow she sent flying at his ribs. "What else Sweets?"

"He is controlled, organized, methodical. He is a planner. The pattern of time and location indicated by the prostitute murders leads me to believe that he must have some regular event that brings him to that part of town in the middle of the week...perhaps something to do with his job? The fact that he kills with a guitar string is significant. He either does it because they are easily accessible to him, or because he considers them significant in some way. He hates women, which is usually an indication of some traumatic event in his childhood involving his mother. Perhaps she was abusive, but also a musician. It could explain why he would want to kill women with part of an instrument. The dichotomy between these murders and involvement with Taffet is interesting. His murders are rage-induced. He wants to be close to his victims when they die- the exact opposite of Taffet. There must be some reason why he chose to become involved with her. How would they have even found each other? This is where I believe you are correct in assuming that the person we're talking about must have been connected with the Gravedigger investigation at some stage. He must have sought her out because he believed she could be valuable to him. Like I said, he's a planner. He acts on his rage with the prostitutes, relatively safe victims, but he must have something else he's planning...an obsession that haunts him. Taffet must have had some capability or connection that interested him. He is not some petty accomplice; if so, she would have never let him go free while she went to jail. He must frighten her, and- frankly- that's terrifying. Guys, I'm going to be honest...I hope you're wrong about a connection between them. I really, really want you to be wrong."

Everyone was silent for a moment, letting Sweets' words sink in. Brennan and Angela caught each other's eye and considered the consequences of a swerve. Hodgins focused on controlling his breathing, while Cam rubbed her temples. Booth's jaw clenched as he wondered who could be scary enough to frighten Heather Taffet.

Surprisingly, it was Hodgins who first regained the ability to speak. "I'm going to get back to my particulate samples. I was actually able to gather quite a bit of evidence from the crevices left on Amy Brennan's neck by the string. Most of it's soil from the crime scene- he must have had her pinned on the ground at some point- but there are some other things too, so... I'm going to work on that...it could give us more information..something to go on."

Angela watched him go, tears of worry filling her eyes. After a moment, she turned to follow him. Cam gave Sweets a nod of respect before leaving the office, lost in her thoughts.

Booth clapped Sweets on the shoulder. "You did good kid. That gives us something to go on. Thanks, man."

Brennan sat carefully back at her desk, thinking about how she had spent the weekend obsessing over a silly kiss like a teenager. She should have been at work, trying to put the pieces together. She was angry at herself. She and Booth were _work_ partners. They solved murders. They brought criminals to justice. She had let herself be distracted by daydreams, when she knew all along that dreams had no place in the light of day. She looked at him and could tell that an invitation to the diner was on the tip of his tongue; she shook her head.

He took in the fact that all traces of softness were gone from her eyes, and he followed Sweets out of the lab, back to the Hoover. He just hoped he wasn't back at the beginning.

**TBC**


	29. Tempe Brennan & the Bedtime Redemption

**Author's Note: In the interest of not having to bother you with anymore annoying 'I'm so sorry it took me so long to update' notes, I'll just go ahead and let you know that I will probably only be able to post once a week for a while. This is a busy time of year for me at work, and I'm in the middle of some seriously time-consuming research. On top of everything else, I am a painfully slow writer. My apologies, and I hope you'll stick with me. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review, alert, or just plain read this story. I've been having such a good time with it.**

_Chapter 23: Temperance Brennan & the Bedtime Redemption_

Booth sat at his desk, pretending to read the latest case report that had been left for him. In reality, his mind was consumed with the details of the profile Sweets' had delivered a few hours earlier. He replayed the words over and over, arranging and rearranging them as if they were colors on a Rubik's cube...as though the puzzle could be solved if he just turned them the right way. The portrait Sweets' had painted of the killer had seemed so _familiar._ It left Booth feeling the way he had during those first few weeks after waking up from his coma. He could see the outline of the truth, but the details were hidden by a fog that wouldn't lift. The one thing he could see clearly was that the prostitute murders were, without a doubt, connected to the the Gravedigger kidnappings. There was still no concrete proof, but he _knew_ it. He knew it, and he was beginning to understand that he was nearing the end of a game he hadn't realized he'd been playing. It wasn't a feeling he particularly enjoyed.

During the moments when his thoughts wandered, they tended to find their way to Bones. Bones, and her eyes. The way they'd positively sparkled on Saturday at the carnival, the way they'd gone all soft and tender this morning in her office...the way they'd hardened a few hours ago. It occurred to him then that she might be right. He'd told her once that work was no reason for them not to be together, yet here he was, in the middle of what might be the most important case of his career, thinking about her eyes. It was entirely possible that a romantic relationship would be detrimental to their professional relationship.

For a moment he faltered, all of his newfound resolve regarding his relationship with Bones slipping away...but only for a moment. He put down the case report and picked up Sweets' profile, a cocky smile sliding back onto his face. There was no way being together could be more distracting than _not _being together...and if it was? _Well, Bones will just have to learn to love working with Agent Perotta._

oOo

Booth managed to keep his focus strictly professional for the remainder of the day. He had fallen behind on paperwork to an extent that was bound to be noticed soon. In order to ward off any unwanted attention, he closed himself up in his office and forced his way through the administrative backlog. By 5:00 PM he was completely caught up, and he left for the day as though nothing were wrong.

He didn't go home, though. By 5:15 he was walking into the lab at the Jeffersonian, hoping to see where things stood- both with the case and with his partner. This time he knocked and waited for permission before entering her office; he didn't want to push his luck. This time when she looked at him, her gaze was neither soft nor hard; her expression was the epitome of neutrality.

"It looks like you've been busy," he commented, taking in the stacks of paper that covered every surface in her office.

"Reports. Court reports, police reports, news reports- everything that I could find pertaining to the Gravedigger case." She sighed. "If Sweets is right, and our killer was somehow connected to the investigation, then he must be somewhere in these reports. I thought we could make a master list of everyone involved, then start eliminating people based on the profile. I was hoping it could help focus our investigation." She looked back up at him sternly. "What are you smiling at?"

He chuckled softly. "I was just thinking that you're becoming quite the investigator."

"I'm an intelligent person, Booth, with excellent critical thinking skills. You know this already."

"I do indeed, Bones," he said, but he didn't stop smiling. "I think that you're right that _we_ should start on that master list. How far have you gotten?"

"Not far at all. It took a while to compile all of these records. I've only had about half an hour to go through them."

"Do I want to know how you managed to get access to some of this?" He asked, flipping through a stack of FBI witness statements.

She gave him a sheepish smile. "Probably not."

Before he could respond, the door to her office opened, and in walked Angie, clad in her miniature lab coat. Both she and Parker were participating in the Jeffersonian's summer science camp, but Parker had left to visit his grandparents in Vermont after the carnival. He greeted the little girl with a silly face, and she giggled back at him before turning to face Brennan expectantly.

Giving Angie an '_I know'_ smile, Brennan said, "Sorry, Booth, it's time for me to go." She began gathering up all of her paper work. "Angie gets cranky if she doesn't eat on schedule," she laughed, patting the child on the head.

"Well," Booth responded, "I'm with you there, Shadow."

Brennan placed the reports in her briefcase, then stood and stared at him for a moment, deliberating. Finally, she said, "I won't be in tomorrow morning, because Angie and I have our last home visit with the social worker before we finalize the adoption. That doesn't really leave a lot of time to get this done, and I know it's urgent. Booth, do you want to come back to my house? I could make us dinner, then we could get started on that list?"

Booth tried not to sound too victorious when he answered, "Sounds good, Bones." He reached down and lifted Angie into the air. "Shadow, I'm impressed," he said seriously. "You've managed to do in a few months what I haven't been able to accomplish in five years- convince your mama to leave this place at a decent hour. Nice job, kid."

oOo

Back at her apartment, Brennan and Booth sat in the middle of her living room floor, a stack of reports and a flip chart between them. Each time one of them ran across a new name, they'd add it to the chart. Earlier, they eaten a dinner of eggplant pasta, then Angie had gone to her room to play. Booth didn't particularly care for eggplant. It was the texture. It seemed that no matter how it was cooked, it always felt like biting into a dense sponge. Still, he hadn't complained. He was just grateful to be there.

Brennan was so caught up in her list of names, that when she happened to catch a glimpse of the time, she let out a soft curse. "Angie," she called, "It's bedtime! Put on your pj's and grab our book, okay?"

Within minutes, the little girl was standing in the doorway, sporting yellow pajamas and holding a book under her arm. She glanced back in forth between the two adults before giving a small nod, then walking over and handing her book to Booth. He looked quizzically at Brennan, who let out a little laugh.

"I think she wants you to read to her tonight."

Surprised by how honored he felt, Booth gave Angie a crooked grin. "My pleasure, kiddo." He waited while she leaned over and gave Brennan a goodnight kiss, then followed her back to her room.

oOo

When he returned after twenty minutes, Brennan was on the fourth page of the flip chart. Blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes, she looked up at him and said, "I know we agreed to get all of the names down on paper and edit later, but I'm starting to think we should do at least a little editing as we go. Maybe leave out the women, or something. Is she sleeping?"

"Like a baby."

"Thank you for reading to her."

"Anytime." He got a mischievous glint in eye as he looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "So, Harry Potter, huh?"

Brennan was instantly defensive. "What's wrong with Harry Potter?"

"All of that magic." Booth made a face like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It just doesn't seem like you'd approve."

Brennan raised her chin. "I've been taking Angie to an art therapist that Sweets recommended." She paused. "Don't look so surprised, Booth. You know how Angie loves to color and paint with Angela, and, well, she still isn't talking, so I did some research into art therapy." She glanced over to make sure he wasn't laughing at her. Reassured that he was still listening, she continued, "Did you know that trauma changes a child's neurological pathways? In that way, the traumatic events are stored as muscle memory. Art is active, and as a therapy, can help correct the neuro-pathways. Furthermore, you don't need words to express yourself with art...so...I put Angie in art therapy. The research I read said that stories and story telling can also help children cope with trauma. It gives them an opportunity to imagine a different outcome to their own stories, to take control of their lives. Anyway, I bought the Harry Potter series and read it over the weekend. It's about an orphan, left with abusive relatives. He's just a child, but he's able to find friends and defeat the monsters. I thought...I don't know...I thought that maybe it would help her. I thought maybe it would make her feel powerful." She glanced back up at him, and he was staring at her with an expression she couldn't read. Feeling self-conscious, she asked, "What?"

It took him a moment to answer; it was one of those times when his heart just felt so _full. _"I was just thinking about what a good mom you are."

She gave him a shy little smile, and he just couldn't help himself. Before he could even think about the possible consequences, he was leaning toward her, brushing away the strand of hair that had been bothering her all night. Once again, he brought his lips to hers, and this time there was no one to interrupt. For a second, she was as still as a statue, but slowly she began to melt, her lips yielding beneath his, her mouth opening just a bit. His hand snaked around to the back of her head, combing his fingers through her hair as he deepened the kiss. She made a small sound in the back of her throat that told him she was losing control. It was this sound that let him know it was time to stop. He was going to stick to his plan; he wasn't taking this too far, too quickly. He pulled slowly, painfully away.

Acting quickly, before she could decide to panic, he gave her a playful wink then nudged her shoulder and turned back to the reports in front of them. "I think you're right. It would be safe to go ahead and filter out the women."

"What are we doing, Booth?"

"We're evaluating all of the participants in the Gravedigger investigation against Sweets' profile. It was your idea, Bones...and a brilliant one at that."

She grabbed his face softly, forcing him to look at her. "Booth?"

He sighed and said simply, "We're being us."

"But what does that mean?"

He gave her the same lopsided grin he'd given Angie earlier. "Come on, Bones. Didn't you like the kiss?"

She grunted in frustration. "Of course I did, you're an excellent kisser, but that's not the point-"

Booth held a finger to her lips. "You think too much, you know that? Just let it be."

When it looked like she was gearing up to start an argument, he shook his head and interrupted. "Just let it be," he said slowly.

Seeing her calm down a bit, he decided to try a diversion. "So," he asked in a teasing tone, "Did you cry at the last book?"

"I most certainly did not," she answered haughtily...and maybe a little too quickly.

"Aw, Bones," his tone was indulgent, "it was moving stuff. It's okay that you cried."

Brennan rolled her eyes and threw a pen at him. "Just get back to your reports, Agent Booth."

**TBC**


	30. The Proof in the Pick

_Chapter 24: The Proof In The Pick_

Surprise! I bet you weren't expecting to find me here. This isn't where I belong. This isn't my usual place. Besides, I told you last time that there would be no more little chats. Of course, I also told you that I am a liar...or have you already forgotten?

It turns out I wasn't quite ready to let you go. I want to keep you with me until the end, and trust me, it's almost the end. Today. This morning. The end. All of my dreaming, all of my planning, it culminates today. And you are here to see it, to watch the stories converge. You realize, don't you, just how special you are; how dear you've become to me? I am bringing you with me, to the end.

They think they've been careful, clever. They think no one knows what they're doing. They've almost figured it out, and that's fine. In order for my plan to work, they need to be on the verge. For all of the components to fall into place, I might even have to provide a little push. I don't mind. The method of bringing all of the pawns into place isn't important; it's the timing that matters.

I have been waiting over five years for this day. God, the maneuvering to make this work...you wouldn't believe. I will accept nothing short of perfection today. No contingencies. It is very likely that this will be my last day on Earth, and it will go my way.

oOo

Booth went straight to the Jeffersonian Tuesday morning. Bones would be with Angie and her social worker, and he wanted to spend the morning reviewing the suspect chart. Sweets was meeting him there, and it was the psychologist who had provided a cover for all of the extra time they were spending at the Jeffersonian. He had fed the higher-ups at the Hoover some line about training and the dynamics of inter-agency cooperation. Booth figured this meant that he owed the kid one. He feared payback might come in the form of actual training on the dynamics of inter-agency cooperation. _Just, please God, don't let it involve ropes courses...or trust falls, especially not trust falls._

He made it to the lab by 7:30 AM, well aware that he was a little too perky for someone who hadn't actually made it to bed until 3:30 AM. He and Bones had poured over every last scrap of paper related to the Gravedigger case, and they'd ended up with a list of forty-four people who fit the gender and age parameters provided by the profile. He understood the gravity of the situation. He realized that one of those forty-four people, many of whom he actually knew, was likely a serial killer. Still, that knowledge was unable to completely erase the smile from his face. Last night he had kissed Temperance Brennan...for the second time since he had decided to go all in. He had kissed her, and she had accepted it. They'd worked for the rest of the night, and it felt like nothing had changed. She didn't freak out on him...he was winning this one. The feeling was intoxicating. He was invincible.

He glanced around the lab- Hodgins was engrossed in a microscope, but Angela, Cam and Sweets were standing in a huddle, looking at him expectantly. He approached them confidently, flip chart in hand.

"Alright, people, ready to catch a murderer?"

oOo

"Well, Temperance, Angie...that's all I have," Julie began putting her files back into her bag. She stood and smiled at the unlikely pair before her. "This home visit just confirms what all of the others have already proven- that the two of you are an excellent fit. I'll be submitting my final recommendation today. You'll probably have to wait a month or so for a court date, but that's just a formality. I don't anticipate any obstacles to the finalization of this adoption. Congratulations, you two!"

Brennan and Angie responded with identical professional nods and outstretched hands, thanking her silently for her approval. Julie chuckled; these two definitely wouldn't be the most demonstrative mother-daughter duo she'd ever met, but they certainly belonged together.

Brennan walked the social worker to the door, taking the opportunity thank her verbally, then watched her disappear down the hall and into the elevator. She closed the door and took a moment to rest her back against it. She shut her eyes as a wide smile crept across her face. She was a mother. She was Angie's mother, and she would be good at it.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Angie standing in front of the sofa. She was clenching her fists at her sides and biting her lip, as if to clamp down on excitement she wasn't sure it was okay to feel. Her eyes, though, were dancing. Even the most cautious among us are often betrayed by our eyes. Brennan held out her arms and began to laugh. The little girl's face and hands relaxed as she ran into the embrace of her new mother.

Acting on a very un-Brennan-like impulse, she began to twirl, whispering into her child's ear, "Today is a very good day."

oOo

Are you still with me? I'm here, _right here._ I'm just outside _her_ home, ready to begin the end. Remember back in the beginning, when we talked about the locks, the dogs, the alarms, all of the mechanisms people put in place to protect themselves? Remember how I told you they were woefully inadequate? You didn't want to believe me, did you? Well, I'm about to prove to you that I was right. You see, I am right outside of her home, but I am not preparing to sneak in through a window, to bust down a door. No, that wouldn't do at all. I'm going to knock. I'm going to knock, and she _is going to invite me in_. It's that simple. So go on, prepare yourselves any way you like. Take all of your precautions, but please don't say I never warned you. Your enemy? He's never going to arrive in the manner you expect.

Here, let me show you...

oOo

"King of the Lab!"

At Hodgins' excited exclamation, four sets of brown eyes sharply turned away from the flip chart set-up on an easel in Cam's office.

"Let's hear it Hodgins." Booth had little patience for theatrics today. "What've you got?"

"Dr. Brennan says it's the bones, but it's really the particulates, every time." He held up a slide. "These tiny little beauties never let you down-"

"Hodgins, some time today?" Cam never had patience for theatrics.

"The _keratin scute_ of an _Eretmochelys imbricata._"

Booth looked around and rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll be the one to ask, as usual. What the hell is that?"

Hodgins grinned. "Pieces of the shell of a Hawksbill turtle."

Sweets scrunched up his eyes and glanced at the flip chart. "An endangered turtle? Are you saying that we're looking for someone with access to exotic marine animals?" His eyes widened in realization. "Guys! The aquarium! Taffett and the ship-"

"Not so fast, Boy Wonder." Hodgins held up a hand to cut him off. "I'm willing to bet that the person we're looking for had nothing to do with an aquarium. The particulates I found were most likely embedded in the murder weapon and transferred to the victim's neck during strangulation."

"Picks," Angela broke in. "Tortoiseshell guitar picks."

oOo

The knock at the door brought the twirling to a halt. Brennan raised her eyebrow at Angie, wondering who could be at the door. A tiny thrill rushed through her, as she considered the possibility that it might be Booth. He was busy with the case, but he also knew how important the meeting today was. It would be just like him to show up at her door, probably with some sugary treat, and insist that they take a break to celebrate. She headed to the door, a little unsteady on her feet.

She felt a twinge of disappointment when she checked the peephole, followed by surprise. Still she put on a smile as she opened the door.

"Hello, Temperance, may I come in?"

"Of course," she answered, ushering her unexpected guest into the living room. "I'm just surprised to see you here in the middle of the day. How did you even know I was home?" Then it hit her what this visit must mean, and she felt a wave of nausea. "Oh God, nothing's wrong, is it? Has something happened?"

oOo

"There's this whole mythology surrounding them in the music world. You can't sell them or make them, because the turtles are endangered, but some musicians swear by them."

"Exactly." Hodgins nodded to his wife proudly. "They're especially popular with flat pickers. Bluegrass musicians claim they provide a warm, clean sound that can't be replicated by synthetic material. There's this whole underground market for them. It's crazy."

"Um, am I the only one who thinks it might have been better if this had somehow been connected to the aquarium?" Sweets asked. "I mean, we already knew music was significant to this guy. If the turtle picks are all underground, then it's not exactly like we can track him down through his purchases."

Hodgins started to argue, but Angela spoke up again. "Warm-feeling!" She clasped her hand over her mouth. "She could have confused warm-feeling with warm-sounding!" A conversation from several months ago replayed itself in her head. _His home is full of really old acoustic guitars, and he has these special warm-feeling picks for them..._

Everyone in the room watched as the artist's expression turned to one of horror, her jaw dropping, her head shaking, her eyes closing, as if she were trying to un-know something.

Booth's eyes narrowed. A truth played at the far reaches of his mind, something his gut had been telling him all along. "Ange? What is it?"

Angela walked over to the flip-chart, her eyes skimming past the suspects they had already eliminated, shuffling briefly over the ones that still remained. Finally, her gaze rested on a single name. She stared at it in disbelief for a moment, mentally checking off the points in Sweets' profile. Finally, she turned back to her friends. "You're going to think I'm crazy..."

oOo

"No, no, of course nothing's wrong."

Brennan let out of a sigh of relief, but slowly the feeling of unease started to creep back in. She noticed the bag on her guest's back, and although she had never been one to believe in gut feelings, she was pretty sure she was having one now. Cautiously, she asked, "Then what brings you here?"

She was met with a large smile. "I'm here to meet your daughter. We talked about it the other day, remember?"

She was confused. She tried to remember any such conversation, but she had no recollection of any plans they had made.

"I brought my guitar," he said as he removed the leather bag from his back. "Tomorrow is Wednesday, so I thought I could show Angie a few chords. That way she'll be ready when she comes to the show." He sat down next to the little girl, offering her a friendly wave, and began showing her how to string a guitar.

Angie leaned toward him with interest, but Brennan was frozen. _A guitar. Wednesdays. Prestige. Self-deprecation. Proximity to the investigation._ Her thoughts were coming to her in flashes, and she was so caught up in trying to find a way to _get her daughter out of there_ that she didn't hear the ringing of her cell phone. "Andrew?" She whispered, in shock.

He looked up at her benignly. "Temperance, your phone is ringing."

She grabbed the phone robotically, her eyes never leaving the man she had just welcomed into her home. "Hello, Booth."

"Bones! We figured it out! You're never going to believe it- it's Hacker!"

She swallowed, trying to force herself to stay calm. "I know. He's here."

**TBC**

**Author's Note: So, I'm sure you've all had this one figured out for a while, but I hope the revelation in this chapter didn't disappoint. I have to give credit to my husband, a professional bassist, for help in figuring out what kind of particulates a guitar string might leave behind and for the information about the underground tortoiseshell pick world...not that he will ever read this to find out that I gave him credit, because he does not know I write fanfiction. My husband, by the way, would never use a pick made from the shell of an endangered animal...and neither should you. :)**


	31. Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines

**Author's Note: Remember way back in the first chapter when I said I'd be stealing a scene from Criminal Minds? Yeah, that starts now. While on the topic of stealing...a special thanks to Mr. James Taylor for the chapter title!**

_Chapter 25: Sweet Dreams & Flying Machines..._

In an instant, Booth's world narrowed. Everything around him disappeared, and all that remained was her voice. Moments ago he had felt invincible, but now he was being reminded that he was very, very mortal. The shining tiles beneath his feet began to shift, and he grasped the edge of Cam's desk to keep from falling.

"What do you mean, he's _there_? Bones, grab Angie, get out of that house now. Don't even bother giving him an excuse, just get out." Booth's voice sounded eerily calm to his own ears. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of the other people around him- their questions, their gasps, their frantic leap into action. He was aware, but it was as though it was all happening behind a veil. Nothing they did could penetrate his world, whose only other occupant was on the other end of the line.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," she answered with the kind of steadiness only used to mask hysteria.

"Fuck! He knew. Shit, Bones, how could he know?" Suddenly the veil over his surroundings was lifted, and Booth's worlds converged. Sweets and Cam were making phone calls, mentioning the Hostage Rescue Team. Angela and Hodgins had wheeled something into the office and were unobtrusively applying a listening device to his phone. All at once, he understood what they were doing, they were tapping his phone, listening for information that could be valuable to the HRT. If this were a drill, if this weren't his worst nightmare come to life, he would have been proud of his squints and all they had picked up. There was no time for pride, though. He was running, searching out his car in that _fucking_ parking structure, and on his way to Bones. The HRT was based in Quantico, local cops would get there quickly, but they wouldn't dare make a move in this situation without SWAT; there would be back-up, but it would take time. He didn't have time. He had to get his family _out _of that apartment.

oOo

Brennan still stood, frozen in place. Booth's voice felt like a lifeline, but her attention kept being drawn away from it, to her little girl, sitting on the sofa, entranced by the guitar. Booth was telling her that he was coming, that he was on his way. Booth was telling her not to worry, that everything would be fine. Hacker was sitting next to Angie. Hacker had a gun that he'd made sure Brennan could see.

Brennan was silent. Booth was still talking, his voice muffled by road noise and sirens. Hacker held up another guitar string.

"Angie, did you know that guitar strings can be used for lots of things besides music? For instance," he said, forming the string into a circle, lifting it in his hands, preparing to slip it over her head-

"NO!" Brennan screamed and lunged.

Andrew laughed and looked at Angie conspiratorially as he easily avoided Brennan's attack, "Temperance seems high-strung today. As I was saying, a guitar string also makes a beautiful," he pulled the circle around the little girl's neck and tied it in a bow, "necklace." He said this last word with a little 'ta-da!' flourish. Angie looked back and forth between the string around her neck and her obviously upset mother, unsure of how to react to her new gift.

Booth was yelling. He had heard _'No'_, then nothing else. Brennan couldn't find the words to calm him.

Hacker glanced at her nonchalantly. "Temperance, if Agent Booth is on the phone, perhaps you could put him on speaker. I'd like to say 'hi'."

Brennan pressed a button on her phone. "Booth," she sounded breathless, "you're on speaker."

"Angie's in the room, right Bones?"

"Yes."

"Shadow, this is Booth. I need to talk to you, okay? Can you come stand by your mom?"

Brennan watched as the little girl stood and began to walk toward her. She was frightened that Hacker would do something to stop her, but he just sat on the couch, discreetly tapping his gun, watching the entire scene with mild amusement.

"Okay, Shadow are you standing by your mama?"

"She's here, Booth."

"Shadow, I need you to tell me that you're there. I need you to tell me, because what I'm about to say is very important, and I have to know you understand. Are you standing by your mama?"

Angie looked around the room- at the man on the couch, at her shaking mother, at the new necklace around her neck. Finally, in a voice hoarse from underuse, she whispered, "Yes."

If it had been any other time, this small, single-syllable word would have been a cause for great rejoicing. It is entirely likely that more twirling might have been involved. Uttered as it was, however, in response to a desperate request from a terrified man, it passed without remark.

"Good girl. Okay, baby, the first thing I need you to do is lean over and give your mama a big, big hug and a kiss, okay Shadow?"

The child smiled up at her brand-new mother, then flung her arms around her waist. When Brennan crouched down to return the embrace, Angie placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

Booth spoke again, his voice choked with tears. "Now tell her how much you love her."

Angie leaned her forehead against Brennan's and whispered, "Mama, I love you too, too much."

Brennan closed her eyes, trying to shut out the circumstances surrounding the moment. Determined not to cry and frighten Angie, she answered fiercely, "I love you back. I love you back."

Then, Booth was speaking again, and it was time for Brennan to open her eyes.

"Shadow, your mom and I need your help. This is very important. I need you to go be a squint. Just like that time you had the book that Bug Man got you, okay? We need you to go be a squint. Shadow, do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good girl. Go right now. Don't stop being a squint until me or your mama comes to get you. Only us, okay? Go now."

Brennan watched as her little girl took off down the hall. Now she and Hacker were the only ones left in the room, and he no longer bothered to hide his gun. He still sat, almost bored, on the sofa, but now the gun was pointed directly at her.

Booth wasn't yelling anymore, but he wasn't speaking kindly as he had been mere seconds ago. There was something deadly in his voice. He was speaking to Hacker, threatening him, warning him. Hacker was looking decidedly unthreatened. Brennan couldn't focus, because Angie was gone, and Hacker and his gun were walking toward her, and _how could she not have known?_ It wasn't only a gun, he also had a guitar string, and Booth was still talking, and Hacker was still smiling, and Brennan finally realized...there was no time. Booth had always come before. Even when it was impossible. When she was hanging by her hands, when she was buried in her car...Booth always came after her. He was coming after her now, but she was watching Hacker, and she knew- he wouldn't get here in time.

_I told you so_, said the entirely rational voice in her head. _It is statistically impossible for the man to always be in the right place at the right time. There is nothing miraculous about Booth. There are no such things as miracles. Silly, stupid girl._

Brennan blinked, pulled herself out of her head and into her reality. Booth and Hacker were involved in some sort of back and forth, and she needed it to stop. Booth couldn't be talking to Hacker now. He had to listen to her.

"Booth," she snapped, trying to make him listen. "Booth, look, this is very important okay. I don't know what the plan is here, I don't know if he will take any of my things, but I need you to look in the third drawer of the tallest filing cabinet in my office, okay? There is contact information for my lawyer. Call her and explain what happened. She has all of the instructions. Everything is in order. She'll handle everything."

"Bones?" Booth's voice was choked again. "What are you talking about?"

"You have to take care of Angie, alright? It has to be you-"

"Bones-"

"There's no time, Booth, listen!" She no longer cared that she was unable to disguise the panic in her voice. "It has to be you. I realize this must seem emotionally manipulative, but you have to be the one to take care of her. I know the adoption hasn't been finalized, and I know you aren't even a registered foster parent, but I know you, and I know you can make things happen. It has to be you. You're her family, you and Parker."

"Bones-"

His voice was pleading, but she ignored him. "Don't let them put her back in the system. Don't let them. You make her laugh, just like you've always made me laugh. You made her talk. Promise me."

"Bones, I'm on my way, I'm almost there, everything will be fi-"

"No it won't." Hacker was right beside her now. The gun was at her head, the guitar string wrapped loosely around her neck. He winked at her. "It won't be fine this time, Booth. Promise me you'll take care of her. Promise me. Promise me right now."

"I promise, but Bo-"

"Good. Okay. Talk to Angela, she can give you all of the information about her doctor and her special diet. Oh, and her hair can be tricky, but talk to Cam and Caroline- they helped me. Also, Sweets can give you the information about her psychologist, and take her to see Hodgins sometimes- she really likes racing beetles." Hacker began humming and ever so slightly tightening the string around her neck. "Booth, do not put me on your list, do you hear me? I have no place on it. I mean it. Promise me."

"Bones-"

He sounded as though he was in agony, but she didn't care. "Promise me," she shouted, "Promise me!"

She barely heard the final _'I promise.' _

The string tightened, and her airway began to constrict. As she fought for air, she found herself wishing she'd had time to say more. Even in her last moments, she felt socially inadequate. Her last words had been of lists and promises, both important, but shouldn't she have included "I love you" and "Tell Angela, tell all of them, I love them too"? Shouldn't she have mentioned her father? Shouldn't she have told Booth that she was better for having him in her life? Shouldn't she have told him to take Sweets out bowling every once in a while? She was falling short, and there was no time left to make it right. Everything went black, and her thoughts faded away.

oOo

Choking. Booth could hear choking. He was close, only eight blocks from her building, but he wasn't close enough. It surprised him, somehow, that time and speed and the mathematical absolute of distance hadn't broken their rules to accommodate him. He hadn't expected them to let him down.

Six blocks away and the choking stopped. A voice he recognized was on the line.

"Now, that was good. Of course, Dr. Brennan likes to cheat death. Let's make sure that's not possible, shall we?"

The next sounds Booth heard were a gunshot and a thud, and his world narrowed once again. There would be time, later, to survey the damage, to grieve the losses. There was no time for grief right now, no time for acknowledgement. Revenge took up all the room left in Booth's heart and mind.

"I am coming for you now, Hacker. I will kill you. I will kill you for what you've done."

"That's entirely possible, Agent Booth, but I don't really have time to think about it...I have a little girl to find." Two blocks away, and the line went dead.

**TBC**


	32. In Pieces on the Ground

**Author's Note: I'm not, and will never be, someone who begs for reviews. They're certainly nice, but I feel that whether or not to leave them should be left entirely to the discretion of the reader. I did, however, learn in the last chapter how to significantly increase your review count...kill off Brennan (or at least give the impression of doing so). Does it help at all that I'm not waiting a week to update...and that I'll probably update once more over the weekend? Oh, in this chapter, I will continue steal from Criminal Minds and James Taylor.**

_Chapter 26: ...In Pieces on the Ground_

It's strange, the thoughts that float across your mind during those moments when your world ceases to be recognizable. Sure, there are the socially acceptable responses seen in movies, read in books, and they make you think, "Well of course. That's how anyone would react." But then something happens that was never supposed to happen. It happens on a Tuesday, a perfectly ordinary Tuesday. It happens in the morning, even though _everyone_ knows that trouble comes in the night, in the shadows...it's never out there for just anyone to see. When it happens, you don't remember all of those movies you've seen, or the books you've read. You forget the script, and suddenly you don't know that normal people respond with screams, or tears. You forget, and who can blame you? Bad things aren't supposed to happen on Tuesday mornings.

oOo

Cam was going to laugh. She couldn't help it. There was a phone in her hand, and she'd been talking to someone just moments ago- relaying information, giving instructions. She'd had an important task, just moments ago. Now she held the phone limply in her hand. Somewhere, something was telling her that she wasn't really done yet. But she felt done.

Long ago, some genius _(and you know it was an actual genius)_ decided that all of the offices in the Medico-Legal lab should have glass walls. Cam had always thought that, with such obvious disregard for privacy, this decision begged the question- why bother with offices at all? But they had bothered, and Cam now had one of those offices, and through its glass walls she could see everyone else in the lab, going about their routines. This was why she had to laugh. They had kept their secret so well...just in case it had been anyone associated with the Jeffersonian. Even when they were tapping Booth's phone, and it didn't really matter anymore, they hadn't let on. It had been so pointless, it was hilarious. And how could everyone out there just keep going? There was no lab without Brennan, that was the impression she had always gotten. Yet, she'd just stood there and listened to Brennan being strangled...she'd heard her being shot. But everyone in the lab? They just kept going. Hilarious.

Hodgins didn't seem to think so, though. At least not if one were to base her perceptions on the wild glare he was giving his boss. Or maybe it wasn't for her. Maybe it was for Hacker, or the situation. Maybe it was for Brennan, because she shouldn't have let it be that easy. Maybe it was for Booth, because he had finally let them all down. He crouched against a wall, allowing the anger to take over.

Angela didn't notice. And shouldn't she have been more attuned to her husband? Shouldn't she have been crying hysterically, maybe even screaming, needing comfort? That's what one did, right, when one's best friend was murdered as you listened on? If anyone were to act according to script, shouldn't it have been Angela? But it was Angela who realized that Cam was done, even if her task wasn't complete. She took the phone from her boss's arm and continued relaying information to the HRT. There was still a little girl to be saved, a broken-hearted man to be watched over. She compartmentalized, and she couldn't help thinking that Bren would be really proud. There were tears, but they were silent.

Sweets, on the other hand, was anything but silent, and of everyone, his reaction might appear to be the most inappropriate. It was almost as though he were _offended_. He had been wrong, and he was never wrong. He was pacing, talking to no one.

"No. No, that can't be right. It's wrong, it doesn't fit the profile. If Dr. Brennan was his obsession, then it was too quick. Where was the torture? It would make sense if Agent Booth were his obsession, because then he would be the focal point. It would make sense to kill Dr. Brennan while he listened...but it can't be Booth. It's a woman. The profile says it's a woman. So _why_? _Why _wouldn't he drag it out?"

It was Hodgins who stopped him, and _really_, wasn't it time someone stopped him? Besides, all of that anger needed to go somewhere. So that's why Hodgins stood up, got right in the young psychologist's face, and growled, "_SHUT. UP._ Just shut up, Sweets." He thought of his friend, who had just been coming into her own, and he said what she would have wanted him to say. "The 'why' doesn't matter."

oOo

I lied again. When I told Agent Booth I have a little girl to find. I made it sound like I was off to kill poor little Angie, but that's not exactly the plan. Depending on how much time I have, I'll get to that, but Agent Booth should be sufficient for my purposes. Now, that's not to say I don't appreciate the little girl- she was very useful to me. You see, Dr. Brennan is never what you expect, and that has always been a problem. She's a 'fight to the death' type, a hero...not really the ideal victim for a murder you want to happen _just so_.

But do you remember what I told you about heroes, about what separates them from the rest of us? Come on, you know this one. It's that heroes know exactly what they're willing to die for. It's not live at all costs for the heroes. A child. Don't you see how perfect it is? This is what I'm supposed to do! Why else would a child have been so suddenly brought into the life of _Temperance Brennan_? A child. Someone to die for. Someone like Temperance will always defend herself..._unless_ to do so might endanger someone she had decided she was willing to die to protect. So, God bless (are we still pretending there's a God?) little Angie. She certainly made things easier.

I hope it doesn't sound too much like I'm just sitting back, enjoying my victory. I don't want to give you the impression that things are over just yet. I told you that during my time with my _partner_, I developed something of a flair for the dramatic. I've been planning this for far too long not to savor it, but there's still much to be done. Right now, for instance, phase two of my plan is on his way, and he can't find poor Temperance in the living room. That wouldn't do at all. No, not at all.

oOo

Somewhere else in the world, people were reacting, people were planning. Booth couldn't allow himself to consider them. There was only room in his mind for his mission- _kill Hacker, find Angie_. To let anything else in now would be a catastrophe. He wasn't sure he'd be left standing when everything he'd been blocking out came crashing down, so the crash, the inevitable crash, had to wait until he'd taken care of Angie. _He'd promised her._

When he finally, too late, reached Brennan's building, it was clear that the residents had realized something was wrong. There were sirens growing closer, and people rushing down the stairs. He was flashing a badge and running up. He reached the door, gun in hand, and realized that it was unlocked. He gently pushed it open and quickly popped his head around the corner, just as he'd been trained _(you will get the lay of the land, and human reaction time will prevent an assailant from getting a shot off)_. The living room was empty, and he was surprised. For some reason, he had assumed that they would be in the living room.

He stepped noiselessly into the apartment, eyes scanning his surroundings. A flash of red caught in his peripheral vision, and he realized he'd been correct...they had been in the living room, but Brennan had been dragged out. The sight of blood, _her_ blood, was almost enough to wreck his defenses, to force him to face the truth. It would have been enough, if he hadn't had a promise to keep.

He looked away from the blood, and headed toward the hall. Of course, the blood was here as well, but he was determined to ignore it. He cleared every room as he passed. Her office gave him pause, and it took all of his resolve to keep him from throwing open the door to the credenza and getting Angie out of there. He had one last thing to do, and if he didn't succeed, he couldn't risk leaving her unprotected.

There were two rooms left- Shadow's bedroom, and Brennan's. His back was to the wall, on the same side as Brennan's room. In spite of everything, he smiled. An embarrassing moment from what seemed a lifetime ago flashed across his memory. _"Oh you know, Booth, it never hurts to have a strategically placed mirror in the bedroom. You never know when a creepy serial killer might be lurking in the bedroom."_

He leaned his head just inches out from the wall, just far enough to glimpse the mirror. In the reflection, he noticed two things right away. The first was that his partner's body was lying on the bed, like she was sleeping. The second was that right across from her was a window with a curtain. Barely peeking out from the curtain was a pair of men's shoes. Shoes attached to legs. He calculated his angles, he caught his breath, then he swung around the corner. The man behind the curtain had never been his equal, he'd never had his reflexes. He'd barely had time to lift his gun before Booth got off the shot that hit him directly in the center of his forehead. The man crumpled, and Booth didn't need to check his pulse know that he was dead.

He paused for the space of a heartbeat, gun drawn. His partner. On the bed. If he looked at her, _really looked at her_, he wouldn't have the strength to leave that room. So he quickly turned away. _Not yet._ He had a little girl to find.

**TBC**


	33. Even Though I Know You're Leaving

**Author's Note: All my gratitude to Amilyn, whose chat session on medical and anatomical realities kept me from making a few serious mistakes in this chapter. Your information will be even more important to the next chapter.**

_Chapter 27: Even Though I Know You're Leaving_

She didn't like her hiding place any more.

Angie was thinking very hard about not moving. Parker's dad, _Booth_, he hadn't told her she had to stay still, but she knew. She had always been very good at hiding. Before, at her old house, she had to hide a lot. It was always scary...but somehow not this scary. When she first found the hiding place at her new house, it wasn't because she needed it. It was just that she wanted her own lab. It had to be small, because Bug Man worked in a teeny-tiny small little place. Her mama had a big office, but Angie wanted to look through a microscope like Bug Man, so her lab needed to be small. It wasn't scary, it was fun.

It was scary now though.

The man with the guitar was a bad man, but she hadn't been able to tell...she had only noticed the guitar. It wasn't until he made the necklace out of the guitar string that she understood he was bad. It was like the clown at the fair, the one who had scared Booth when he started making a hat out of a balloon...you should never trust people who turn one thing into something else. Angie still wore the necklace. She thought she would probably have to wear it forever.

A punishment for not being able to tell.

"_Today is a very good day." _That's what her mama had told her earlier, and Angie had believed her. It was supposed to be a very good day. But it wouldn't be, she could tell. Bad men don't make you necklaces on very good days. You don't have to hide on very good days. You don't hear two loud, loud _bangs!_ on very good days.

Today is a very bad day. Today is the worst day.

Angie wanted to cry, but you can't cry and stay hidden for very long. So she didn't cry, and she didn't move. She had spoken earlier, when Parker's dad told her to. She told her mama that she loved her, she told the truth. It was a problem to tell the truth, Angie knew. Once you told the truth, people didn't need to hear it anymore. They didn't need you anymore.

Better to stay silent. Better to keep them waiting for the truth.

Her poor, new mama- she had looked so scared. Angie hadn't thought her new mama got scared. Booth had told her to hide, and she had listened to him. Was that what she was supposed to do? Her mama usually listened to him...but still. When you have a new mama, are you supposed to leave her alone with a bad man who turns strings into necklaces? Are you supposed to leave her when she's scared?

Angie didn't think so. But she didn't really know the rules for families.

When Parker's dad and her mama came to get her, Angie would say 'sorry' for leaving her alone. She'd say 'sorry', and her mama would say that it was okay...her mama was like that. When they came to get her, Angie would take off the bad man's necklace. She'd throw it in the trash- the one outside the building, not the one in the apartment. She'd throw it in the trash, and she'd promise to never only notice a guitar again. She'd promise to hate guitars forever.

Except she knew it wouldn't happen that way. Sometimes you don't get to say 'sorry'.

Angie was a very smart girl, especially about very bad days. On bad days, like this day, your mama doesn't come to get you from your hiding place. On bad days, like this day, you don't get to talk about next time. On bad days, like this day, loud _bangs!_ mean that there's no one left to come for you.

She wondered if she'd have to live in her hiding place forever.

oOo

Booth had managed to walk out of the bedroom, to leave his partner on the bed. He had managed to call it in, to let back-up know that the threat had been neutralized. Is it really a surprise, then, that he hadn't managed to stop himself from looking at the blood that streaked the hallway? It wasn't too much. _It was enough._

For the second time that day, he felt the ground begin to tilt beneath him. He was dangerously close to a crash, and he still hadn't kept his promise.

_There's still a little girl. _Her_ little girl. She's hiding, and she's scared, and you promised._

Booth repeated the words over and over, reminding himself that his world couldn't end just yet. He re-holstered his gun; he didn't need it anymore. When he entered the office, he found himself reluctant to open the doors to the credenza. To do so seemed cruel. To do so was to take a little girl from the safety of her hiding place and to thrust her into a grief-laden reality. His wasn't the only world that was ending. _God, Shadow. I'm sorry baby. I'm so, so sorry._

If he was honest with himself, he would have to admit that he didn't want to face her- this little girl who had already been let down so spectacularly by life. This little girl who had already experienced more than her fair share of bad days, and who was more than due some good. This little girl, whom he had failed.

He opened the credenza door, and there she was, her big, knowing eyes staring back at him. He pulled her into his arms and there, kneeling in his partner's office, holding his partner's child, he let himself crash.

oOo

He didn't say anything to Angie, because, really, what could he say? She had always known too much, little Shadow. She wasn't Parker, who would have needed everything spelled out, who would have had to have been convinced that something so horrible could really happen. She knew. She may not have known how the crash would come, but she had always been expecting it. She was like Bones that way.

So he held her, let her grasp at his shirt. He held her, and he cried, and he hated himself. He held her as if to never let anything bad touch her, but he wasn't so sure that it wasn't her protecting him. Bones' little girl. His little girl.

People were entering the apartment. They weren't bursting in, like you see on television. The urgency was gone. This wasn't a rescue; this was a clean-up. He stood with the little girl in his arms. He made sure her face was buried in his neck as he walked to the living room to meet the other agents. She'd seen enough. It was the least he could do, making sure she didn't live with the memory of her new mother's blood smeared down the hall.

He didn't care that all the other agents, the people with whom he worked everyday, could see the tears flooding his face. It didn't matter that everyone could see how hard he was shaking. He could see it in their faces, they'd never use it against him. Scanning the room full of stunned, unsure agents, he spotted a familiar head of blond hair, and walked toward her.

Mindful of his angles and Angie's line of vision, he turned the girl to face the Agent.

"Shadow," he said, unable to recognize his own voice, "this is Agent Perotta. She's a friend, okay? She's your mom's friend." He sent a silent prayer of apology to Bones for the lie. He hoped she'd understand. "She's going to take you to the lab, okay baby girl."

The little girl in his arms began to struggle, shaking her head. He patted her back, trying to soothe her. "It will be okay. She's going to take you to Angela and Bug Man and Auntie Cam."

Angie's eyes were wild with betrayal. His already shattered heart was obliterated when she begged in her hoarse little voice, "Stay with me."

"I'm going to stay with you, Shadow. I'm going to stay with you always. Agent Perotta's going to take you to our squints. It will only be for a little while. I'm going to come. I'm so sorry, but I have to...I can't let other people...I have to take care of..." He couldn't finish his thoughts, and he just kept on despising himself, because he was looking into her eyes, begging a little girl to understand.

And she did. She let go of his shirt, and went willingly into the arms of Agent Perotta, a stranger. She wasn't quite seven-years-old, and she understood. In that moment, he paused in hating himself and took a second to despise his God. Peyton didn't meet his gaze as she made small, non-sensical sounds of comfort and carried little Shadow out of the apartment.

oOo

Nothing remained between him and reality. There were no more distractions. He could buy no more time. The agents in the room were sympathetic, but they had a job to do. They were willing to follow his lead, but they couldn't let him pretend forever.

He couldn't let anyone else see her first. As soon as the door closed behind Shadow, he started back toward the bedroom. He didn't want give Hacker even a second's more consideration, but when he walked into the room, the first thing he did was pull back the curtain. Booth had always been an excellent shot. He never missed a target. He gave the body a sharp kick to the head, just to make sure. Satisfied that he would never have to think about Andrew Hacker again, he turned his attention to Bones.

His eyes couldn't quite focus as he walked toward the bed. He didn't want to look at her. He didn't want it to be real.

It was this desire, for all of this to not be real, that made him not trust what he was seeing. His eyes first landed on her neck, where he noticed the expected bruising...but sometimes the most important thing is what's _not _there. Hadn't she taught him that? Where were the lacerations, where was the blood that would inevitably come from being strangled to death with a wire? His eyes traced the path to her head. There was a lot of blood...but not enough. Not enough for her to have been _shot_ in the head.

Afraid to trust what he was seeing, he raced toward her. Searching her head and feeling her pulse at the same time, he shouted for back-up, for the EMT's. Her heart was beating. Her head was bleeding, but there wasn't a gunshot wound.

The tears and the tremors started again, but this time they were accompanied by laughter...the kind of laughter that comes with relief. He didn't understand it. He didn't know what Hacker had been thinking, but she wasn't dead. She was unconscious, she was bleeding, but he didn't think she was even critically injured. The EMT's were loading her onto a stretcher, and he was yelling to an agent to call the Jeffersonian, to call her people. He would have done it himself, but he couldn't stop the laughing. He'd killed Hacker, so he'd never be able to ask him _why. _Why had he done it this way? Why had he left her alive?

But then he thought about what she would say when she woke up. The 'why' didn't matter.

**TBC**

**Author's Note 2: Does everyone feel better now? There will be more explanation in the next chapter, but it won't come as quickly as this one. I fear my posting blitz has come to an end, because if I don't spend some time on my ethnographic research this weekend, I may flunk out of graduate school. I'm sure none of you want that. Thanks for sticking with me!**


	34. Even Psychopaths Miscalculate

**Author's Note: My continued gratitude to Amilyn for her assistance with medical information. Also, I'm writing this while I'm home sick and on cold medication...you've been warned.**

_Chapter 28: Even Psychopaths Miscalculate._

Phones were ringing. Cam's desk phone, Sweets' cell. They were ringing, but they were ignored. Outside the glass walls of Cam's office, the world was still turning. Inside those walls, the occupants were stuck. They couldn't keep going- they hadn't yet figured out how.

Other than the ringing, there was silence. There was no more laughter, no more anger. No more confusion, no further need to compartmentalize. Finally, they could all be done. Any second now, they could start feeling all of those things they were supposed to feel. The crying, the screaming, the comforting- it was time...only no one seemed to know how to start. So they stayed still, the four of them, acknowledging neither reality nor each other. They stayed still, each of them wondering how to begin.

Through those walls, they were able to observe the approach of another member of their stunned little group- someone else who wanted absolutely nothing to do with whatever came after this moment. It appeared as though she, too, had forgotten the script. She was a child, so where were her tears? Where were her heart-wrenchingly precocious questions? Her approach was quiet, accepting. She wasn't looking around, asking everyone in the lab when her mother would be coming to get her. She didn't need Agent Perotta to carry her, to suppress her wails in the comfort of an embrace. Not Angie. She walked beside the agent, not even holding her hand...an adult in miniature.

The phones kept ringing, and they kept not answering them, each of them considering how to handle the moment when Angie entered their presence. The door opened, and it was Hodgins who moved first. He walked right up to her, crouched down in front of the little girl, and held out his hand.

She looked back at him with tired eyes, but she didn't accept his offer of comfort. She couldn't- her hands were occupied, grasping the guitar string around her neck, the one she might never be able to take off. Hodgins didn't break eye contact as he gently shook his head, then reached up to pry her little fingers away from the string. Grasping her hands in one of his own, he used the other to remove the circle from around her neck.

He tossed it to the side, and Angie began to crumble. Her eyes filled with tears, though none of them fell. Her hands started to shake, and the rest of her body quickly followed. Her mouth formed a perfect little 'o', and her breath came in short, desperate gasps. He gathered her up, holding her as if there was nothing more precious in the world. He took her to the others, and it began- the crying, the comforting. The remembering.

oOo

Peyton Perotta stood in the doorway, unable to either turn away from or participate in the scene unfolding before her. Everything that had happened, the whole day, it was so surreal, and it held her captive. Throughout everything, the ringing continued, and it took her a while to realize that her phone had joined the chorus. Somewhat grateful for an excuse to turn away, Peyton slipped out of the office to take the call.

After listening to the hurried explanation on the other end of the line, Peyton held the phone in front of her to just stare at it for a second. She couldn't help but laugh a little as she returned to the office. Hating to interrupt, even with good news, she stood, waiting for someone to notice her. Eventually she cleared her throat, earning an annoyed glare from Cam.

Ignoring it, she took advantage of the fact that she had their attention. "Umm...I'm sorry to interrupt, it's just that...it was Agent Holt on the phone. They're taking Dr. Brennan to the hospital." She broke out in a wide grin. "They think she's going to be okay. Booth wants you to meet him there."

oOo

Booth, sirens blaring, managed to stay on the ambulance's tail the entire way to the emergency room. When they opened the back doors, he was right outside them. The tears had never stopped falling, but now they were accompanied by the nearly irrepressible urge to jump in the air, pumping his fists and hugging complete strangers. They were unloading the stretcher, and her eyes were open. He managed, barely, to keep his feet on the ground.

oOo

He was in the waiting room when her people, _their people_, rushed excitedly through the sliding doors. The doctors hadn't allowed him to follow her, and, for once, he listened. Her eyes were open. She was breathing, even though the oxygen mask over her face was helping her out. Her heart was beating. He could wait. He still had time.

Angela was running, and he braced himself for the impact he was sure to feel. Seconds later, she was in his arms, bouncing up and down.

"She's going to be okay, she's going to be okay."

He just nodded, and tears just kept falling. He looked past Cam and Sweets who were laughing and crying and talking hysterically, until he spotted the person he'd been waiting for, tucked away in Hodgins' arms.

He had her in an instant, this little girl that he'd thought he'd failed. Her eyes were wet, and the joy that had infected everyone else hadn't quite breached her defenses.

Booth sat the little girl on one of the uncomfortable, ugly sofas. He smoothed his hand over her braids, and he said seriously, "It's okay, Shadow. Your mom is okay."

She looked him up and down, considering. She bit her lip, then whispered, "Promise?"

He smiled, hoping she understood that he never broke a promise. "Yep. I promise."

oOo

They weren't left waiting long. Soon they were a surrounding a doctor, listening to an explanation of Brennan's injuries.

"From my examination and Dr. Brennan's recollection of the attack, I was able to piece together a probable string of events. The scratches on her neck indicate that the wire was tightened against her skin, but it absolutely wasn't used to render her unconscious. If I had to guess, it was probably only used to frighten her. At some point, the assailant let go of the wire and used his arm to put Dr. Brennan in a carotid restraint. This cut off blood flow to her brain and likely rendered her unconscious in a matter of seconds. Now, people actually regain consciousness very quickly after passing out from a carotid restraint. This is where I think the gun came into play. She was hit on the head with quite a bit of force with a blunt object- likely the gun. That explains all of the blood, as head wounds bleed quite profusely. She was not shot, so I can't explain the shots you heard. She's going to be fine. Like I said, there are a few scratches on her neck, and her voice his hoarse. She'll have a sore throat for a couple of days. We had to put a couple of staples in her head to close the wound there. She was hit hard, and she has a concussion, that's her most serious injury. We're going to go ahead and keep her overnight for observation, but I don't anticipate complications. I don't know what kind of game your guy was playing, but it sounds like Dr. Brennan is a very lucky woman. Do you have any questions?"

Booth and Angela spoke simultaneously. "Where is she?"

The doctor chuckled and directed the group to the second floor.

oOo

At some point in their race to Brennan's room, they were joined by Max and Caroline Julian, both of whom were loudly complaining- one about being kept in the dark concerning his daughter's welfare, the other about renegade scientists and cocky FBI agents who were constantly overstepping their bounds and nearly getting killed. No one paid them any mind.

When the growing group reached their destination, they interrupted an argument between Brennan and the orderly who had transported her. Brennan's voice was too damaged to be loud, but they managed to make out the words "find" and "my daughter."

When she saw her friends, her family, in the doorway, she stopped trying to frighten the orderly, and she scanned the crowd for her little girl. Before anyone could tell what was happening, Angie was climbing into the bed with her new mother, wrapping her up in her tiny arms. She pulled back and said what she had feared she would never get the chance to say. "Sorry."

oOo

It had taken a while, all of the sorting out. Brennan wanted to know why Angie felt the need to apologize, but the little girl had decided that she'd done enough talking for one day. There had been lengthy reassurances, both emotional and logical, that the little girl was blameless. Then it was Brennan, who had to apologize to her. Booth would have none of that, insisting he had been the one who had let them all down. Sweets jumped in, reminding them that he had taken forever with the profile, and Hodgins felt that he should have been able to identify the tortoise shell much earlier in the game. Cam agreed that he might have been able to do it sooner...if only she had released the body to him more quickly, and Angela was just sorry that she hadn't put together the bluegrass thing more quickly.

There was a pause, then Caroline finally spoke. "Well, don't look at me. I'm not apologizing for a damn thing. I don't see how anyone here could have known that the _Director of the goddamned FBI_ was some sort of serial-killing psychopath. As far as I can tell, there's nothing to apologize for. I mean, this is best case scenario, right? His little goofy, murdering ass is dead, and we're all still alive. Dr. Brennan got away from a serial killer with nothing more than a bump to the head, and the little mute even decided to grace us with a few words. You ask me, and we should all be celebrating right now instead of whining about who's the most guilty. You people need to learn how to let things go."

Max leaned down to kiss his daughter before giving Angie a high-five and clasping Booth's shoulder. "I'm going to second that...and Angie and I are going to go down to the cafeteria and find everyone some cake to get this party started. He winked at the prosecutor before leading the little girl reluctantly out of the room.

Of course, it wasn't really as simple as that, and all of them knew it. No one in that room would be able to forget what happened, and none of them would escape the experience unscathed. There would be all kinds of repercussions, both practical and psychological. It would affect everything from their work to Angie's adoption...but that didn't mean that Caroline and Max weren't right. Just for now, they could continue forgetting and just enjoy the fact that they were all still there.

oOo

They were finishing the last few pieces of strawberry cake- not so bad for a hospital- when Sweets leapt up from his perch on the air conditioning unit.

"I've got it! Okay, listen to this- he wanted to keep you alive," he was addressing Brennan, "you were his obsession. He wanted to keep you alive, and force you to watch him kill Agent Booth. That was the torture. See! I knew it, I knew it was too easy. The profile is always right. He was going to kill you after you had already caused the death of your closest friend, someone Hacker considered a rival. Perfect."

Everyone else kind of gaped at him a while, then Max rolled his eyes and gave him a pointed look before picking up his little granddaughter and once again carrying her out of the room.

Shrugging, Cam finally gave in and asked, "But why would he think he stood a chance against Booth- a trained sniper?"

"Oh, that's an easy one, _cherie._ I bet he was counting on Agent Love-Sick-Puppy-Dog's inability to think clearly once he thought the good doctor was dead."

Angela laughed quietly while Booth shot the prosecutor a glare. Sweets, however, was exasperated. "Okay, why is that no one EVER LISTENS TO ME? I mean, did the man not read my reports? I have said time and time again that despite their strong attachment to one another, Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan continue to function professionally. God, it's like I talk and talk, and I'm right, I'm always right, but no one pays any attention. I don't know why I even bother."

Brennan reached over and patted Sweets on the arm. "It's okay, Dr. Sweets. If it's any consolation, were Andrew still with us, I'm sure he would be very sorry he didn't listen to you."

She looked to Booth, trying to let him know with her eyes that she thought he should say something to make Sweets feel better. Booth looked at her like she was crazy, then laughed at the absurdity of the situation. "Stop pacing, Sweets. Just eat your cake and be happy that the psychopath made a mistake."

**TBC**


	35. The Long Way Home

_Chapter 29: The Long Way Home._

As she awakens on Wednesday morning, slowly prying her resistant eyes open, Brennan is instantly aware of two things: the painful throbbing of her head, and the fact that she is not in her own bed. She's in a hospital- she's been in enough of them to immediately process the beeping monitors, the antiseptic air- but it's the _why_ that eludes her. With great effort, she moves her eyes around the room, gathering clues. There's no IV, so that has to be good. Whatever has her here can't be too serious. Oh, and there's Booth, sleeping in a chair. _Bad for his back. He'll be sorry. _There's a shift in the bed that makes Brennan realize she's not alone. Looking down, she sees Angie curled up beside her, fisting her hospital gown in tiny hands. It reminds her of that first night, not so long ago, when Brennan decided that neither of them should have to sleep alone. But things had changed since then. Sleeping alone was no longer a problem...so why were they regressing?

And then the previous day crashes back down on her. _Adoption. Twirling. Hacker. Guitar. Angie. Gun. Booth. Hiding. _She tightens her grip on the little girl at her side, and her breathing becomes shallow as she fights to control the memories. Her eyes widen, and they race to find Booth, proof that everything is fine. His eyes are open now too, and they stare at each other, seeking reassurance, proof of life.

oOo

Neither could say how long they stayed like that, desperately searching each other's eyes, trying to find words for all the things they needed to say. Angie woke up eventually, joining them in their silence. It was Max who broke it, bursting through the door, announcing that he and Angie were going to get breakfast and spend the morning together.

She didn't want to go. She wanted to stay with her mother, watching her, making sure she didn't slip away while no one was paying attention. But Max was charming and persuasive, painting a picture of a perfect morning. And Angie loved her grandpa, who always let her get extra whipped cream on her waffles. And Brennan was encouraging, and Booth was watching. No one was going to slip away.

Booth and Brennan watched them go, and it was their chance. Booth moved his chair closer to the bed. He took her hand in his, and placed a gentle kiss on her temple. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, they found hers. Once again, words wouldn't come, and all he could do was look.

oOo

The next time they were interrupted it was by Angela. She entered the room, reminding Booth that he had a few things to take care of this morning. Booth left, smiling mysteriously, telling Angela to call him when Brennan was discharged.

Angela didn't take Booth's place by Brennan's bed. She took Angie's. Crawling into bed beside her friend, she draped an arm over her shoulder and squeezed tightly.

"I compartmentalized, you know."

"You did?" Brennan's voice was still scratchy, her thoughts still a little fuzzy.

"Yep. Cam lost it. She was supposed to be giving instructions to the FBI, but she dropped the phone and started laughing. It was really messed up. I took the phone. I gave them instructions. Everyone else- Hodgins, Sweets- they sort of fell apart...in their own quirky ways, but I compartmentalized." Angela bit her lower lip, and Brennan smiled up at her.

"You were the unflappable one."

"Yeah," the artist's voice broke, "and I hated it. You're supposed to be the unflappable one. I'm flappable. Very flappable." Tears were now streaming down her face. "That's how I always want it to be, okay? I don't ever, ever want to have to take your place again."

Brennan reached up to wipe the tears from her friend's face, then rested her head on her shoulder. "Angela?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm proud of you."

Angela flashed a watery smile and curled closer to Brennan. "I kinda thought you would be."

oOo

The remainder of the morning was a blur of nurses, doctors and paperwork. Angela was acting like herself again, making jokes that Brennan didn't get and flirting harmlessly with a particularly handsome nurse. Both Max and Booth returned to relieve Angela just before Brennan was officially discharged. Angie seemed considerably more relaxed, if still uninterested in talking.

Brennan, though, was growing increasingly anxious. Her head had begun to clear, allowing her to more fully consider the impact of what had happened with Hacker. All she could think about was Angie and how this might affect her adoption. She wanted to go directly to CFS to speak with the social worker.

"Baby, just calm down," Max said as he stood beside her wheelchair on the curb, waiting for Booth and Angie to bring the car around. "It will be fine. We'll all go together, explain what happened."

Brennan eyed her father skeptically. "I think it would be in our best interest if Angie and I went alone. Seeing as how you're a criminal, and all."

"Tempe, why do I have to keep reminding you that I've never been convicted of anything?" His daughter narrowed her eyes, and Max laughed. "But I see your point. Maybe it's better if you handle this one yourself. I want you to call me straight away, though. Let me know if I need to enact Plan B."

"What's Plan B?" Booth had pulled the car up to the curb, and was helping Brennan out of the wheelchair. He looked the other man over suspiciously. "Max, what's Plan B?'

"Nothing either of you need to be concerned with. Just know that Angie isn't going anywhere, no matter what."

Brennan gave an exasperated sigh and started rubbing her temples. "I don't need this right now."

"No," Booth agreed, shooting a glare at Max, "you don't." He walked over to open the passenger door. "Trust me, there will be absolutely no need for Plan B."

Max smiled blandly and shrugged.

Booth rolled his eyes, closed Brennan's door, and gave the older man a sarcastic wave. "Goodbye, Max."

"Talk to you later, Booth."

Booth climbed into the car, and he looked over at Brennan. Her eyes were closed, and she was resting her head against the cool glass of the window. He reached over and squeezed her leg reassuringly, then looked in the backseat to Angie and made a goofy face. Returning his eyes to the road, he started to drive. Continuing to stare straight ahead, he said determinedly, "Everything is going to work out just fine."

oOo

After a few minutes in the car, Brennan cracked her eyes open. Realizing that they were going in the opposite direction of her apartment, she sat up straight. "Booth, this is the wrong way. Where are we going?"

"I thought you wanted to go to the CFS offices."

"I do, but I can drive myself. Booth, you don't need to go with us."

Booth briefly turned his eyes off the road to look at her. "I'm going with you."

"Booth-"

"_Bones,_" he said in a tone meant to convey that this wasn't a matter open for discussion, "I'm going with you." He reached across the console to grab her hand. he softened his tone, and said, "We're partners. This is what we do. This is who we are."

Her instinct was to argue with him. To tell him that this didn't concern him and that she didn't need him there. Then she realized it would be a lie, and she just didn't have the strength for a lie. It was terrifying, but she stayed quiet, choosing to simply squeeze his hand in response.

The three of them walked through the glass doors of the government office, and Brennan had to laugh when she caught sight of their reflection. They looked horrible. She hadn't been able to properly wash or comb her hair, so pieces of it were still matted with blood around the staples in her scalp. She was wearing a wrinkled t-shirt that Booth brought back for her, and it didn't cover the angry scratches on her neck. Make-up had been out of the question. Brennan had assumed when Booth left that morning he was going home to take a shower and change, now Brennan realized that hadn't been the case. He was still wearing yesterday's crumpled dress shirt and pants, splashes of blood marring the pristine white of the shirt. His steps were stiff, betraying the damage that had been done by spending a night in a chair. Max had brought clothes for Angie, but if the dark blue stains dripping down her pink dress were any indication, she had chosen blueberry topping for her waffles at breakfast. Brennan thought about yesterday morning, how she had made sure everything was perfect for that last home visit. Shaking her head wearily, she bypassed Reception and headed back toward the familiar office.

When they reached the waiting area, she left Angie sitting on one of the pea-green plastic chairs with Booth, and knocked timidly on Julie Bolles' door. When the social worker answered, she didn't look at all surprised to see Temperance Brennan, her wrinkled t-shirt, or her matted, bloodied hair. She smiled and motioned for the anthropologist to come inside.

"I suspected I might get a visit from you today."

"You did?" Brennan was sure the other woman saw a lot of strange things in her line of work, but she couldn't help but be a little taken aback by how nonplussed Julie appeared to be."

"I did. First of all, let me tell you how happy I am that you and Angie are both okay."

Brennan narrowed her eyes in confusion. "You know? But, how..."

Julie gave her a warm smile. "I've been fielding phone calls and emails about you and Angie all morning long. Let's see, the first call was from an Agent Booth with the FBI, who called to tell about your horrible experience yesterday. He faxed me the official report, then went on to tell me that through the whole experience, you never stopped thinking of Angie. He said you risked your life to save hers, to buy her time. He said you're a wonderful mother and told me a story I didn't entirely understand about spending a weekend reading the entire _Harry Potter_ series. He told me that he hoped what happened wouldn't impact your adoption and that he would personally guarantee that nothing bad would ever happen to you or Angie again."

Had Brennan been capable of words at that moment, she would have told Julie that Booth could make no such guarantee...or maybe not. As it was, all she could do was gape.

Julie's smile widened, and she continued. "Yes, he was the first to contact me, but he wasn't the only one. Let's see, a courier delivered an official letter from Interim Deputy Director of the FBI, Sam Cullen. He speaks very highly of you and your way with children. He says you're honest with them, when most adults would be tempted to lie, and that, in his opinion, makes you perfectly suited to care for a child like Angie. He also assures me that the FBI will do everything in its power to provide for the safety of you both." She looked at the stunned woman across the desk, and raised an eyebrow. "Shall I continue? Let's see I received a joint call from Dr. Lance Sweets and Dr. Alice Harkin. Dr. Harkin says that she is Angie's art therapist, and that she met with the little girl this morning. She says that while yesterday's events were certainly scary for Angie, her main concern seems to be separation from you. Dr. Sweets concurred with Dr. Harkin; he says he's known you for several years and that there is no one more capable of loving Angie than you. He also expressed concern about what it would do to Angie to be taken away from you. Let's see, who else? I got emails from Doctors Camille Saroyan and Jack Hodgins of the Jeffersonian, both telling me how wonderful you are and how much progress Angie has made with you. Dr. Saroyan included a cute story about Angie's hair. I got a visit from a federal prosecutor- Caroline Julian- which was...interesting. I think she threatened to charge me with a crime if I disrupted your adoption," Julie laughed, remembering her encounter with the cranky lawyer. "Finally, I received two phone calls from very excitable women. Angela Montenegro? She has some very strong opinions on how perfect you and Angie are for each other. She described the little girl's room to me in great detail. And the last one was...Daisy Wick."

Brennan's eyes widened comically at this last name, and Julie laughed. "Wow. Ms. Wick...she is...well, she's a very big fan of yours. And apparently she was calling on a satellite phone from Indonesia? At the urging of someone named Lancelot? She said that she'd never met Angie, but that she knew she must be very special, because you had given up a year of digging to be her mother. She said that you had been like a mother to her, and that Angie was very lucky. She also went on to tell me all about your superior self-defense skills until we were eventually disconnected. It was a very long call." Julie looked up at Brennan, waiting for her reaction.

She didn't know how to respond. She swallowed, looking down at her hands. She couldn't believe it, couldn't process it. All of those people. She was crying again, and she briefly worried that tears were becoming a habit. Swiping them away, she looked up at Julie. "I don't know what to say."

Julie handed her a tissue. "You know, Dr. Brennan, hearing from all of these different people this morning, I couldn't help but think about our last meeting here- the one where I told you that Angie's parents were terminating their parental rights. I remembered how angry you were, how surprised you were that no one was willing to fight for her. So all I could think about this morning was that all of these people were now willing to fight for Angie...some of them literally willing to fight," she chuckled. "It looks like things have really changed for her. So even though what happened yesterday was horrifying, I couldn't help thinking about what a lucky, lucky little girl she is. You didn't knowingly or willingly endanger Angie yesterday. From what I'm able to tell, you were willing to sacrifice yourself for her...and I know you will continue to get her the help she needs." Julie looked at her kindly. "Go home, Dr. Brennan. Rest. I'm not changing my recommendations. You're Angie's mother. There's nothing to worry about here."

Brennan pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes, trying to control her tears. Finally, she removed them and gave Julie a smile of silent thanks before leaving the room. In the waiting room, she stopped to take in the sight of Angie, sitting on Booth's lap. The two of them didn't notice her. They were engrossed in a copy of _Highlights_, methodically searching for the hidden objects. Brennan watched them, thinking once again about her friends, about what they had done and how she could never repay them. _Humbled._ That's what she felt. She sensed Booth's eyes on her, and she held his gaze steadily. "This is what we do, huh?"

He smiled and stood, lifting Angie up with him. "Let's go home."

**Author's Note: I know, you are all anxious for a Booth and Brennan chat. It's coming up in the next chapter, which will be posted in the morning. Also, for those keeping track, this story has five chapters to go. I'm doing my best to wrap it up in time for the season premier. I have another story I want to get to work on, but I've found I just can't focus on more than one story at a time...not that I'm rushing my way through this one. I love it (and you!) too much to give it (and you!) less than it deserves. :)**


	36. All the InBetween

_Chapter 30: All the In-Between_

Booth drove them to her apartment, trying the entire way to convince her to go to his instead. Brennan wouldn't hear of it, though she didn't protest when he followed them to her door. Opening it, she was immediately struck by what _wasn't _there. Blood. She couldn't remember much of what happened after Angie had gone to hide, but she was sure there must have been blood. She glanced at Booth and immediately knew how he'd spent his morning. They walked through the apartment. Angie was back to clutching at Brennan's clothes, but she was determined not to be overly afraid.

When they finished the tour of the house, they made their way back to the front door. Brennan looked at Booth expectantly, waiting for him to walk out of it.

"No way, Bones. I'm staying."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

Brennan scrunched her eyes closed. It was too much. Something had happened in Julie's office when she'd heard about the calls. Then, she'd watched him sitting there, taking care of Angie. He'd come for her. He'd spent all night in a chair beside her bed. He'd cleaned her blood from the floor. It was too much. It had caused..._something_ to happen inside of her. It was wonderful, and frightening, and she didn't know if she could accept it. She did know that she didn't have the energy to think about it now.

"No, Booth, you're not," she said seriously, before looking down at Angie and smiling. "We're independent women, aren't we Angie? We can take care of ourselves."

Angie looked back up at her mother, unsure at first. Then, her eyes sparkled a little as she nodded. "Yep," she said quietly.

Booth and Brennan smiled over the little girl's head. He didn't want to leave, but he didn't want to push, either. He crouched down to tickle Angie. "Come on, Shadow! I thought you'd be on my side." He laughed as she squirmed. "You're becoming too much like your mom, you know that?"

Angie was giggling, as she answered, "Yep!"

Unwilling to argue with the both of them, Booth gave them identical kisses on their foreheads and instructed Brennan to call him if she needed him. He was tempted to spend the night in the hall outside her door, but eventually went home.

oOo

As soon as the door closed behind him, Brennan wanted to call for him to come back. She didn't, though. That wasn't who she was. It wasn't who she would allow herself to be. She smiled down at Angie and saw her own resolve reflected in her little daughter. She couldn't decide whether or not that was a good thing. She put it on her list of things to think about later.

She walked to the middle of the living room, Angie clutching at her shirt, beside her all the way. Suddenly she realized that she didn't know what to do. Her concussion, not to mention her little girl, would prevent her from burying herself in work. There was no cleaning to be finished, as Booth had taken care of that. She was at a loss. Scanning the room, her eyes landed on the clock. 6:00 PM. Dinner, she could make dinner. Even better, she could go grocery shopping, then come back and make dinner Pleased that she had found a way to keep them both occupied, Brennan quickly helped Angie change out of her stained dress, and together they headed to the store. Each of them hoped the other didn't realize how relieved she was to be leaving the apartment.

oOo

Once again, Brennan and Angie stood together washing dishes. Comfort food had seemed appropriate, so Brennan had made macaroni and cheese. She was struck by the parallels between this night and Angie's first night in her home. Except, tonight she was having a more difficult time keeping painful memories at bay. If it wasn't Hacker, it was her foster parents, the Crawfords. Her hands were literally trembling as she tried to dry the dishes without breaking one. Angie was watching her carefully, so Brennan kept a smile plastered to her face, hoping the little girl couldn't see beyond it. She just wanted to make it through this night. If she made it through this night, she would make it through every other night. And really, what choice did she have?

She lifted Angie off the chair she stood on to help with the dishes and carried her to the bath. She went through the living room, through the hall, past her office. She tried to keep her breathing even, tried not to think about the day before. She filled the tub with warm water and lavender bubbles before helping Angie climb in. After a little while, she came back with a towel to dry her off. For the first time in a long time, Brennan focused on the scars covering the little girl's body. The small, pink circles marring her smooth, dark skin.

That first night, Angie had dared her not to flinch, and Brennan had risen to the challenge. Tonight was different. Tonight wasn't the first night, and they were no longer strangers. Brennan looked at those marks on her daughters skin, the ones that had been left by cigarettes, and all she could think about was how they would never go away. She flinched.

Angie had never stopped watching her. She was following her mother's lead. If her mother wasn't going to be afraid, then neither was Angie. If her mother thought they could take care of themselves, then so did Angie. If her mother was going to tough out this night, then so would Angie.

It wasn't just her anymore, there was also Angie. She wrapped her daughter up tightly in the fluffy towel and carried her to her bedroom. Brennan was already in pajamas, and she quickly dressed Angie in hers. She grabbed a duffle bag and started tossing clothes and toiletries in it. She grabbed her keys off the hook and took her daughter's hand.

"We don't have to do this tonight. This doesn't have to be who we are."

oOo

He didn't exactly expect it, but he had certainly hoped for it, the knock at his door around bedtime. His response should have been worry, because they wouldn't be here, these two pajama-clad Brennans, unless something was wrong...but he couldn't help it. Happiness, relief, contentment- they were all he had space to feel.

He opened his door wide, and flipped Shadow over his shoulder, as though there were nothing at all out of the ordinary about this scene. She laughed in the way only he could make her, and he carried her toward his bedroom. Pausing in the hallway, he looked back at her mother. "You coming, Bones? I have a huge bed, and I've been waiting for the chance to have a sleepover." She rolled her eyes and smirked at him, but he didn't care, because he knew that she was also following him.

Once they made it to the room, he playfully tossed Angie in the middle of the bed, then lovingly tucked her in. Brennan stood in the doorway, looking unsure. Booth smiled at her and took the duffle bag from her hands. Rummaging around in it for a moment, he pulled out what he was trying to find. He held up a copy of Angie's _Harry Potter_, then walked back toward the bed and climbed in beside the little girl. Wrapping her in his arms, he began to read.

Again, after everything, Brennan still found herself unable to do anything but watch. It looked so right, and Booth always knew exactly what to do. No matter what happened, though, Brennan was never sure exactly where she fit. So, she watched. She listened as he read about a little boy who found friends in places he never expected. She watched and listened until Angie turned to her, eyelids drooping, and motioned for her to join them, as though she were puzzled by why she hadn't already. Brennan climbed in on the other side of the little girl, snuggling close to her. Booth nudged his foot against hers, then continued the story.

Before they'd even made it through a single chapter, Angie was sleeping soundly. Booth closed the book quietly, then reached over to turn off the small bedside lamp. Both he and Brennan settled into their pillows as their eyes began to adjust to the dark. The lay, staring at the ceiling in the dark, trying yet again to figure out how not to waste this chance.

Surprising even herself, it was Brennan who spoke first, softly, so as not to disturb Angie. "I was so, so scared." She had decided to start with the truth.

Booth turned his head toward her. "Me too. It was the worst day, the worst thing I've ever experienced."

"You saved Angie. I couldn't figure out how."

"You saved Angie, Bones. I just told her to hide, you gave her time."

"You came."

"Not in time. You're alive either because Hacker was a really ineffective serial killer, or because Sweets was right, and he had some sort of crazy, messed up master plan. I couldn't get there in time."

"Booth," Brennan turned to face him, her eyes piercing in the darkness, "you came, and I'm still here."

He didn't respond. He was back to being unable to grab the right words.

She swallowed. "I'll never be able to repay you, that's what I keep thinking. There's no way for us to ever be even."

"Bones," his quiet words were rough with emotion, "that's not what we do."

This time, she was the one unable to to grab onto the right words. Completely without her permission, a phrase she remembered from long ago, maybe from a wedding, kept running through her mind. _Love keeps no record..._. She mentally cursed the concussion that kept her from controlling her thoughts. It was almost enough to send her fleeing from his bed, his apartment, his life. It was that frightening...but he was right, and she told him so. "I know."

He turned his face back toward the ceiling; he didn't want to scare her with his smile. He could tell from her tone that not everything was well. There was something going on in that head of hers, something she was holding onto that kept her from falling. He knew that, for now, there was so much more between them than just the little girl in the bed...but he also knew that there wouldn't always be. He could tell. So he smiled, anticipating the day when she knew it as well.

"Thank you , Booth."

"Anytime, Bones."

**TBC**


	37. Restoring What Was Lost

_Chapter 31: Restoring What Was Lost_

That first night back, she'd stayed at his house. The second night, he'd stayed at hers. She and Angie shared a bed. He'd had one to himself. By the third night, they were back to being independent women, fully capable of spending the weekend on their own. He called, though. Every night, and every morning- he called. They were never of much consequence, these phone calls, just a simple check-in. After the first night, there had been no further rehashing of all that had happened, no further discussion of all that they were and were not. The calls were brief, light, ordinary...a return to all that was familiar.

It was on Sunday, the third night of her reclaimed independence, that he broke the news. He'd known for a while, as he'd already returned to work, even though she'd taken a few days off. He'd also known she wouldn't like it, which is why he'd waited until Sunday...the last possible moment.

"Hey, Bones, um, one more thing," he said, just before he hung up.

"What?"

"See, I can tell from your tone, you already think what I'm going to tell you is going to be bad. You've got to learn how to relax, not always expect the worst-"

"Booth?" Her patience was waning.

"Yeah."

"Blow it out."

"Spit it out." His response was automatic.

"What?"

"The saying is 'spit it-'"

"BOOTH."

"Okay, okay. You're not going to like it, though."

Her breath caught, and her stomach turned. _They're going to end our partnership. They won't want me working with the FBI anymore. They're going to say my semi-romantic involvement with Andrew showed poor-_

"They're going to make us talk to Sweets."

She scrunched up her face and held her phone out in front of her for a moment, looking at it as though it might be able to offer an explanation. "Huh?"

"They're going to make us talk to Sweets," Booth repeated, sounding completely downtrodden.

"That's it? That's all you had to tell me?"

"Yeah." Now it was Booth's turn to hold out the phone and look at it as though it were crazy. "But what do you mean 'that's it'? You hate having to talk to Sweets."

Brennan smiled and rolled her eyes before laughing softly. "Apparently not as much as you do."

"I thought you'd be upset!" Booth sounded almost offended.

"I suppose narrowly escaping death has changed my perspective."

Booth scoffed. "It never has before."

Brennan laughed again. "Now you're just pouting. Come on, Booth, it could be fun...you and me, cutting circles around Sweets."

"Running circles, Bones. It's 'running' circles."

"Goodnight, Booth."

"See you bright and early at the kid's office, Bones."

oOo

The next morning, sitting across from Sweets and beside Booth, surrounded by silly stress balls, Temperance Brennan was doing her best not to smile. Booth had been correct yesterday; under normal circumstances, being forced to meet with Dr. Sweets would have been very annoying. Under the current circumstances, considering how close she'd come to losing everything, doing something as mundane and familiar as sitting in Sweets' office was nearly intoxicating. The everyday-ness of everything, it made her irrationally happy...though she would deny it if questioned.

So, Booth was slouching in his chair, trying to convey his displeasure; she was in her place beside him, trying to hide her happiness; and Sweets was staring across from them...looking like he was going to cry. The partners realized it simultaneously, and identical looks of horror crossed their features as they watched a single tear tumble over the psychologist's face. Booth sat up straight, and Brennan shifted uncomfortably.

Wide-eyed, she turned to her partner. "Do something," she hissed.

"Like what?" He whispered back, eyeing Sweets nervously.

"I don't know. Make a joke to put him at ease...something about his youthful appearance, or his participation in science fiction subcultures."

"Why don't you do it? Distract him with your latest argument against the merits of psychology."

"I can hear you guys, you know." Sweets' voice was both affronted and pathetic.

"Well, snap out of it, kiddo," Booth said. "What happened, did someone ruin your Klingon costume?"

Brennan smiled at him encouragingly. "Nicely done, Booth."

Booth smiled back. "Thanks, Bones."

"Oh my God, can't the two of you just be serious for a minute!"

Booth and Brennan exchanged a glance that clearly communicated _'Who does he think he is?' _"I was being serious," she said.

"I know, Bones," Booth turned his attention back to Sweets. "We'd be happy to be serious for you, buddy, but you've just been staring at us with your sad eyes since we got here. Do you have something you want to talk about?...And aren't you the one who's supposed to be asking us that?"

Sweets sighed. "I'm sorry, guys. I just...I owe you an apology."

Brennan was confused. "You just apologized."

"No...I...look, the other day, with Hacker, when I thought you were dead?" Sweets looked intensely at Brennan, and she nodded at him to continue. "It was awful. It was awful and sad and scary..."

"That's very kind of you, Dr. Sweets. I can assure you that I would also be distressed if I thought I'd just overheard your murder." Brennan smiled at Sweets, then looked to Booth for reassurance that she'd said the right thing. He gave her a thumbs-up.

"Thanks, Dr. Brennan, but that's not what I'm trying...Okay, so the other day was awful, but it only lasted a little while, less than an hour." The partners exchanged another look that confirmed that they thought he'd lost it, then looked back at him expectantly. "I just...Dr. Brennan...Later, when we found out you were actually alive...That was great. I mean, seriously, one of my top moments ever...but then, suddenly, I thought about when the FBI had faked Agent Booth's death, and how long that had lasted, and how awful that must have been for you-"

"Sweets," Booth broke in darkly, "do you have a point?"

The psychologist took a deep breath, then released his words in a rush. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I kept the truth from you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you he was alive. To observe your reaction? I can't believe I did that. You deserved better treatment from me than that. It was awful, and I was wrong, and I'm sorry."

Brennan gaped at him. They'd been over this. Years ago. She caught the psychologist's eye, then cut her glance meaningfully over to Booth.

It took a moment for Booth to fully process Sweets' hasty confession and apology...for him to realize that it contained new information. When he did, he stood with enough force to knock his chair back several feet. Brennan stood too, alternating between watching Booth pace and watching Sweets bumble.

Booth stopped at the far corner of the room and zeroed his dangerous glare in on Sweets. "Repeat what you said." His voice was calm, icy.

"Booth-" Brennan tried to interrupt, but her partner held up his hand to silence her.

"Repeat. What. You. Said."

Sweets stood up and walked around to the front of the desk, closer to Booth. "I lied to you. I didn't think Dr. Brennan could compartmentalize your death. I wanted to use the opportunity to find out." He gulped when he saw Booth's eyes narrow, his fists clench. "I didn't know you guys then like I know you now, but still... It was cruel, and last week I realized just how cruel. Man, I am so, so sorry."

Booth was shaking from rage. "Apologize to her," he ground out through gritted teeth.

Sweets was standing directly beside Brennan. He turned to her with his hand over his heart. "Dr. Brennan, I apologize. I wish I could take it back."

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Yes, we've already talked about this Dr. Sweets. Now stop groveling. It's very unattractive."

Booth stepped forward. "No, Sweets, keep groveling." He turned to Brennan, his eyes searching hers. "You knew about this?" When she nodded, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I handled it. I told Sweets that I knew what he had done and that he better never do it again, or you would beat him up. It was a long time ago."

"Damn right, I'm going to beat him up." Booth and his clenched fist stepped toward the psychologist, and Brennan put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"It's okay, Dr. Brennan," Sweets said bravely. "Let him hit me. I deserve it."

"See, Bones? He deserves it."

Brennan kept her hand on her partner's chest and gave him a reprimanding look. "I was the one he hurt, Booth. If anyone's going to hit him, it's going to be me."

"Uh-uh, Bones. He hurts you, he hurts me..."

Booth kept talking, but Brennan didn't hear him. _"He hurts you, he hurts me."_ She stopped there for a moment, wanting to examine those words more closely. She didn't get very long though, because Booth was looking at her expectantly, gesturing for her to go ahead.

"What?" She asked.

Booth grabbed Sweets by his shoulders, and turned him to face her. "Go ahead," he said matter-of-factly, "hit him."

"I'm not going to hit him," she said, not missing the relief on Sweets' face. "Not now, anyway. It would be far more enjoyable to surprise him, get my revenge when he least expects it." Booth released the psychologist, but he still looked tense. Brennan nudged him with her hip. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth before and let you beat up Sweets." She saw the hint of a smile cross his face. "You can't stay mad at me about it, though, because I almost died last week." It was an illogical argument, but she knew it would work on Booth. His smile got wider. "Now sit down, so we can continue our mandatory therapy session. Sweets needs it...he's obviously traumatized."

Booth was reluctant, but eventually he sat down. Sweets dried his eyes and went back to his side of the desk, happy to have gotten that off his chest. After a few seconds of loaded silence, they got down to work.

oOo

They talked about what happened- about hero complexes and running out of time, about protecting a child and losing control. It wasn't difficult to discuss, because Booth and Brennan had already said everything that mattered the night she'd shown up at his house. So they answered Sweets' questions, and they closed ranks when they needed to...or when it was simply more fun to do so.

They were relaxed, open. Things were normal, everything as it should be. That's probably why Sweets missed it. It's probably why Booth didn't catch it in time.

It's a tricky thing, choosing to be a different way. For years, since she had met Booth, Brennan had been experimenting, trying out a different way of being, a different way of looking at the world. It was a slow experiment, nearly glacial at times. It's another reason why they missed it, why they weren't more careful.

She was getting ready to fall, to declare her experiment a success. She was right at the edge, poised to tip.

Then, Sweets said, "Dr. Brennan, let's talk about your romantic relationship with Andrew Hacker. It must be difficult for you, having to reconcile the man you dated with the man who tried to kill you. How are you doing with that?" It was an obvious question, a necessary one.

She curled her toes, backed away from the edge. Hacker. She'd dated him. She'd never suspected. She'd brought him into her home, into Angie's life. She hadn't seen. The dead made sense. She could always see the dead. The living, though. She had never been good with the living. She could never predict what they were going to do, or how she would react.

Her eyes moved to her partner. He was smiling a goofy Booth smile, still too caught up in the comfort of their earlier banter to realize things had shifted. Booth. She loved Booth. _Loved_ him. To love was dangerous, and she was careful. Everyone around her had always been careless. She couldn't afford to be. She couldn't afford to lose, to hurt, or be hurt. She had never been good with the living.

Her earlier feeling of intoxication dissolved. She hardened her features, not entirely ready to give up on her old way of being. She looked at the psychologist directly and said, "It certainly confirms my belief that I should be alone."

Booth, Sweets- they hadn't expected such an answer. But they should have. Defenses, carefully constructed over a lifetime, they don't crumble without a fight. They always go down swinging.

**TBC**


	38. Temperance Brennan's Last Stand

_Chapter 32: Temperance Brennan's Last Stand_

She'd say it was impossible, but Booth was pretty sure his heart stopped beating the moment she answered Sweets' question. He couldn't look at her, he had to remind himself to breathe. _"It certainly confirms my belief that I should be alone."_ It had felt so good, the getting back to normal...he'd forgotten all the things that were wrong with normal. Just like that, he was back to wanting to hit Sweets- to hit Sweets and kill Hacker all over again.

"_...I should be alone."_ He'd thought they were past that. He'd thought his gamble was finally paying off. He had refused to consider the possibility that he might lose. No. You know what? He still wouldn't consider the possibility. She was upset, traumatized. He would take this in stride. It was nothing he hadn't heard before, and he wouldn't start believing it just yet. He'd keep trying. He'd keep breathing. He looked at her, not bothering to hide the hurt and disappointment he felt. He was done with poker faces, they hadn't served him well. She wouldn't look back, though, so she didn't see. She kept her gaze on the psychologist, waiting for him to pounce. And he did.

oOo

Sweets studied her for a moment. Her statement had caught him off guard. It was so typical Brennan, but he hadn't thought he was dealing with typical Brennan anymore. He had been so sure there had been a shift. He was still sure. He recognized a last stand when he saw one, and his eyes gleamed. It was finally time. _Let's do this._

"Alright, Dr. Brennan, let's talk about that. What about this situation makes you believe you should be alone?"

Brennan narrowed her eyes, ready to fight. "Dr. Sweets, I didn't say this situation makes me believe I should be alone. I was aware that I was not meant for long-term romantic involvements long before this. I simply said this confirms it. Apparently I'm incapable of selecting even short-term mates."

"So, you're saying that you you feel unable to select a mate?"

"Yes." She paused and looked at Booth. She turned back to Sweets, but it was obvious to everyone that her words were directed at her partner. "It's not just that. I don't believe I have the temperament to sustain a relationship. I've never been open-hearted...I...," she bit her lip. "Why does everyone think relationships are the superior state of being anyway? As far as I can tell, they consist mainly of human beings making promises they can't keep."

Sweets took a turn to glance at Booth. His eyes were down, he was silent. He wouldn't be joining the conversation; he was only here as an observer. Still, the psychologist knew they were in this together.

Trying to pump himself up, Sweets returned his attention to Brennan, zeroing in on a weakness. "You're not open-hearted. That's an interesting insight, Dr. Brennan. If I understand you correctly, what you're trying to say is that you avoid relationships to protect other people...because you can't fully love them. Is that correct?"

Brennan was beginning to wish she was back at the lab. "Why are we talking about this?"

"Because you wanted to, Dr. Brennan." Sweets was emphatic. "You started this. So let me ask you something else, where does this leave Angie?"

Brennan's head snapped up, her eyes flashing. Booth leaned forward, his gaze alternating between Brennan and Sweets. "What do you mean? Angie has nothing to do with this."

Sweets smiled in the condescending way he knew she despised. He was sorry to bait her, but the time for walking on eggshells had long since passed. "This has everything to do with Angie. You've just told me that she has a closed-hearted mother. You've protected potential romantic partners, but you didn't find it necessary to protect a defenseless little girl. You made her promises. What happens, Dr. Brennan, if one day you decide that you just can't keep them?"

Booth drew in a deep breath, his best effort at keeping himself from jumping in and putting an end to this conversation. What Sweets said had to hurt her. Hell, it hurt him, but she didn't need the calvary. She needed to figure this out on her own...though that didn't stop him from shooting Sweets a look that let him know there would be consequences, serious consequences, if this went wrong.

Brennan considered Sweets' question. Deep down, she knew. She knew what he was trying to do. There was a part of her that didn't want to play along, that wanted to roll her eyes, stand up and walk out the door. That part was strong, familiar. There was another part, though, a newer part, that was curious. That wanted to find out where this could lead. She'd never say it out loud, but he was right. They were having this conversation because she wanted to have it. Because it was time. She answered with conviction. "I won't."

"But you've always maintained that you can't be sure, that human behavior is too unpredictable to be able to trust promises."

"I won't. I promised her. I'll keep my promises, Dr. Sweets. Parents are different."

Sweets tried to calm the cheering going on in his head. This was going just as he'd always hoped it someday would. He hoped his sweaty palms weren't too obvious when he leaned in and asked, "What if she decides she doesn't love you? A child like Angie is bound to have attachment issues for the rest of her life. You never know when something like that will manifest. It's very unpredictable. What if she can never fully love you back?"

Brennan flashed back to a long ago morning, hiding on the stairs, listening to people who wanted to let her ago because she couldn't accept what they had to offer. Her words were fierce. "It. Won't. Matter. It won't matter. A child is not a puppy, Dr. Sweets, something you bring into your life for all it can offer you. What Angie does or doesn't feel for me is irrelevant. I've promised to parent her. I've promised to love her. I will. I'm the parent."

This was it. This was the moment. The dam Sweets had always known was there? He knew how to break it. He was finally sure she wouldn't drown. He spoke gently, almost regretfully, when he asked, "But surely _you_ don't believe that there's anything special about parents, that they are somehow exempt from making promises they can't keep?"

She clenched her teeth, braced herself. "What are you trying to say?"

Sweets spared another look at Booth, and he could tell the other man was a breath away from whisking his partner out of the room, to somewhere safe. Sweets tried to let him know with his eyes that he meant no harm, to give him credit...to give _her _credit. The agent's tense posture made it impossible to tell if he'd received or accepted the message, so Sweets said a little prayer before making his next move.

"Well, Dr. Brennan, you only have to look as far as your own parents. They left you alone, save an older brother. And come on, they must have realized he was a flight risk."

The dangerous exhalation of breath from across the desk let Sweets know that Booth was not pleased, but the psychologist had come too far. The anthropologist had come too far. Sweets carefully avoided looking in Booth's direction, keeping his eyes trained on Brennan.

"They were trying to protect me," she stammered, "...they loved me...and it doesn't matter anymore."

Sweets ignored that last part. It still mattered. Of course it did. If he hadn't already known it, the pain in her voice that even she couldn't hide would have given her away. He asked his next question kindly. "Would you ever leave Angie?"

"It's not the same thing." She no longer sounded very sure.

"What if Agent Booth hadn't been able to kill Hacker? What if he had gotten away? What if he was still after you and wouldn't give up?"

"Useless conjecture. None of that happened."

"Dr. Brennan." Sweets' tone let her know he wouldn't be deterred. "Would you abandon Angie to protect her?"

She pursed her lips, the muscles in her face twitching with the strain of all she was trying not to release. Finally, the effort became more than she could bear. "No! No, I wouldn't. It wouldn't protect her, it would hurt her."

"But you would be doing it out of love, to keep her safe."

Brennan was shaking her head. She knew they were no longer talking only about Angie, but she couldn't make herself care. She was lost to the moment. "She wouldn't understand," she whispered.

"But she would when she got older."

Brennan gave Sweets a hard stare. "No, she wouldn't. How could she? It would be wrong. She would know there had to have been another way. She would know that if she were worth it, another solution would have been found. You don't just leave children unprotected. You don't leave the people you love without anyone who's willing to fight for them. She would know."

Sweets wanted to cry for the second time that morning, but there wasn't time yet. He still had work to do. "Right, she would know. So, Dr. Brennan, isn't it fair to say that your parents failed at loving you?"

She was tired. She couldn't look at him. She wanted to be in the lab. "It doesn't matter."

But everyone in the room knew better.

"It matters, Dr. Brennan. It matters, because you're not really trying to protect other people by keeping them at a distance. I don't think you doubt your capacity to love at all, much less your capacity to keep a promise." He sensed the beginning of her rejection, and continued on before she could derail him. "You're not an easy person to know. I think you're that way on purpose. I think you pride yourself on it. There is something, though, that you just can't keep hidden, and that's your integrity. If I know nothing else about you, Dr. Brennan, I know this: You never would have agreed to take in that little girl unless you were certain she could count on you. Which means, it's not you that you don't trust. You may say you're trying to protect others, but I think you're really trying to protect yourself. Your parents failed at loving you, and you think that has something to do with who you are. You are a scientist, looking for cause and effect, looking for patterns...and you think you've found it. You think everyone will fail at loving you. But what if your parents' failure had nothing to do with who you are, and everything to do with who they were? Every pattern has its anomalies, Dr. Brennan. I just wish you would consider that maybe your parents were the anomaly."

oOo

She needed to leave. Sweets had called Russ a flight risk. Well, it must have been genetic. She had taken the conversation as far as she was willing to let it go. Booth hadn't said anything, but she could tell he was uncomfortable, that he was struggling to stay in his chair. As usual, she wasn't sure of the why. She was sure, however, that she wanted to end the session and put them both out of their misery. She stood to leave the room, and she knew her partner was following her. She didn't turn back, so she missed the look that passed between the agent and the psychologist. She didn't see that all was forgiven.

They rode the elevator in silence, and Booth walked with her out of the Hoover. She could have asked him why, considering that she hadn't depended on him for a ride today, but she didn't. It felt nice to be followed.

Booth squinted up at the bright sky, trying to decide how to proceed. She seemed torn down, and all he wanted in the world was for her to feel like smiling. So he went with a joke. An obvious one, something about psychologists and blaming the parents. She laughed, even though it wasn't really funny. He took it as a good sign, she must be looking for a reason to smile.

"Max loves Angie, you know."

"I know, Bones. He's great with her."

"She loves him back."

"I can tell."

They had been walking, but she stopped and turned to face him. "I'm happy for him. I'm glad that he gets the opportunity to love her."

"You don't begrudge him his chance at redemption."

"Exactly."

They walked for a few more blocks until she stopped again. "My mother went to the movies."

He remembered the ticket they found years ago. She wouldn't look at him this time, but he grabbed her hand. "I know, Bones."

"That...it always...it bothered me. It bothers me. I really do understand why she left, why she thought it would be best for me to leave me behind. I...it was a rational decision...I understand...but...," she turned to look at him, still holding tightly to his hand, "...But I've never been able to understand her going to the movies. I think, if it's possible, I understand it less now than I did before. How could she do it, Booth? How could she walk away, yet still have the desire to go to the movies? How could she sit through a summer blockbuster, knowing her children were out there somewhere, without her. I don't understand. How could she do it?"

The lack of comprehension in her eyes nearly broke him. And he didn't have an answer. He had nothing, nothing that could make this hurt her any less. All he had was the truth. "I don't know, Bones."

"You couldn't do it to Parker." It was a statement, not a question. She didn't expect a reply. She didn't need one. "I couldn't do it to Angie."

He squeezed her hand, and they continued on toward the Jeffersonian. When they reached the steps, he began to pull his hand from hers, preparing to return to where he belonged. Just as the tips of his fingers were skimming past hers, he decided it was time to let her know he'd never really given up on gambling.

He leaned in to kiss the side of her head, then he moved his lips down to her ears. "I wouldn't, you know," he whispered.

Her forehead crinkled, but she didn't pull away. "Wouldn't what?" she asked softly.

He smiled against her ear. "Fail at loving you."

He was gone before she could react, practically skipping down the stairs. She was alone, left to consider whether or not that was how she wanted it to always be.

**TBC**


	39. What Good Could Come

_Chapter 33: What Good Could Come..._

She stood there for a moment, on the steps, in the sunshine. She watched him walk away, and she thought about all that had been lost and all that had been restored. She thought about patterns. She thought about anomalies. She tried to consider the possibilities, but the variety of permutations was overwhelming. She went back to the lab, back to her bones.

She hadn't been in her office very long when there was a soft knock at the door, and Angela peeked her head in. "Bren?"

"Hey, Ange."

Angela entered the office, smiling. "Welcome home!"

Brennan cut her eyes around the office. "This isn't home."

Angela laughed and perched herself on her friend's desk. "Yes it is."

Brennan didn't reply, just looked around the room with a wistful smile. Angela could tell there was something going on, so she decided to start with the obvious.

"How did things go with Sweets?"

Brennan started to answer, but then stopped, looking thoughtful. "I don't know."

"You don't know how things went?"

"No, I mean, I assume the purpose of the meeting was to assess whether or not there were any lingering effects from the incident with Hacker that might affect our ability to work together...but," Angela nodded at her to continue, "I just realized that we didn't really wait around to see what Sweets thought." She looked up at Angela and laughed. "I'm not actually sure if we're still allowed to work together."

Angela recognized the semi-hysterical laughter...she had seen entirely too much of it lately. "Bren, what's wrong?" She was sure her friend would blow her off, so she was surprised when the anthropologist once again looked thoughtful.

"Angela, do you remember that time we talked about...about swerving and crashing?"

"Yeah, I do."

"You said that one day Booth would have to give me what I claimed to want. You said he'd move on, and he'd push me away. Do you still believe that?"

Her friend always insisted on the truth, but, god, Angela hated to be the one to always give it to her. "Yeah, I do." She added softly, "But I don't think he'll want to. I think it will be the saddest thing he's ever had to do. And you know what? I don't think he'd ever stop being sorry."

Brennan nodded, staring blankly at her computer screen and biting her lower lip.

Angela was never one to miss a moment. She stood from the desk, walked over to crouch beside her friend, then wrapped her in a tight hug. "Do it," she whispered.

Brennan narrowed her eyes. "Do what?"

_Oh no, you don't. You're not pulling that with me._ "What you're thinking about doing. Do it." Angela was resolute.

Brennan didn't pull away from the hug. "You know, Ange, the last time you gave me that advice, it was regarding following Agent Sullivan on a sailboat around the world."

Angela pulled back and looked Brennan in the eye. "I was wrong then, but I'm not wrong now." She pursed her lips determinedly. "Sweetie, do it. Do it today, do it right now. Do it."

They stayed like that for a while, Brennan's eyes searching those of her friend. "Angela," she asked softly, pleadingly, "do what?"

Angela's smile was back as she stood to walk from the room. "Oh, honey. You know what."

oOo

Booth left work early that day. He hadn't heard from her since he'd left her standing on the steps, and he'd damned near driven himself crazy trying to keep from calling her. He couldn't push. He had to let her decide whether or not she wanted to come to him. He'd said what needed to be said, and now he'd have to wait her out. That's the way it had to be.

God, but he hated it.

And now, here he was at the Jeffersonian. Parker had returned from Vermont yesterday, and Booth had him for the week. He was at the museum to pick his son up from summer camp, but it would be so easy to swing by the lab. It would be so easy, but it might ruin everything...and if he were being honest with himself, he would have to admit that he was terrified to see her. He remembered the night she'd told him that she couldn't, and he was so afraid he'd see the same look in her eyes today. He wasn't sure he'd be able to go through that again and come out intact. Hell, he wasn't sure he'd really made it out the first time.

If it was going to be good, it would still be good when she was ready to come to him. If it was going to be bad...well, then he wanted to prolong the period before he knew it for as long as possible. He wanted to be able to remember it, this time when there was still a chance.

So, he passed the lab and walked straight to the classroom. Parker's face brightened when he saw his father, and it made Booth stand taller. Angie was there too, and she looked up at him a little shyly, then ran over to hug him fiercely. Booth picked her up and swung her around and reveled in the sound of her laugh. The laugh of a little girl with nothing wrong. He gave her a loud kiss on her head, then put her down. He looked over at his son, gathering his things, then over at Max, putting away some equipment. He walked over to the older man.

"Booth." Max clapped his back. "You're getting Parker today?"

Booth gave him a once over. "Yeah. I get extra time in the summer."

"That's good," Max said absently, "a boy needs his father."

"You're absolutely right. Children need their parents."

The hardness of the younger man's tone caught Max's attention, and he raised his eyes expectantly.

"You hurt your daughter."

Max's expression was defensive, but then it changed, softened. He looked old. "I know."

"You just...you did everything wrong."

"I know, son."

Booth wanted to punish him. He wanted to make him hurt. He wanted... He didn't know what he wanted. He looked around the room until he found Angie. She was coloring pictures of insects indigenous to the D.C. area. She felt his eyes on hers and she looked up and waved. She smiled at her friend and her grandpa. Booth waved back and nodded at the little girl. "Don't mess this up with her, Max. Don't you dare hurt Angie."

Max also waved to the little girl, and Booth could see the pain in his eyes. "I won't. I promise."

Booth took Parker's hand and led him out the door, hoping Max Keenan had finally remembered how to keep a promise... wishing that he'd never forgotten in the first place.

oOo

Brennan was exhausted when she finally left the lab. She hadn't been able to focus on her work, and she wasn't sure whether to blame the lingering effects of her concussion, or the lingering effects of her session with Sweets. _I wouldn't fail at loving you._ Her head hurt.

The summer program had ended hours ago, so she had to pick up Angie from her father's apartment. When Max let her in, she saw Angie sitting at the coffee table with cards and poker chips. Brennan raised her eyebrow. "Don't you think she's a little young for poker?"

"Aw, honey, we're not playing poker. We're playing 'Go Fish'. I was just trying to make it interesting." Max gave his daughter a wide smile, before looking down at his soon-to-be grandchild. "Angie, your things are in the back bedroom. Go get them together so you can go home."

The little girl took off, and Brennan took a seat in the sofa. Max eyed her critically. "You look tired, Tempe."

"I feel tired."

Max sat down beside her. He started to put his arm around her, but stopped himself. He looked at his hand nervously, unsure of what to do. Finally, he settled for patting her knee. "Tempe...," he trailed off.

She eyed him suspiciously, and he thought he probably deserved that.

"You know I love you."

She was on full alert. "Yes, Dad, I know."

He sat for a beat too long, trying to find the right words. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He looked at her, startled by her reaction. "Nothing's wrong, honey. I just...I just needed to make sure you knew." She nodded, and he continued, "And you know I'm sorry."

She looked back at him, thinking that she didn't really know that at all.

"I've said that before, haven't I? That I'm sorry. I did everything wrong, Tempe. You know, don't you? That there isn't anything I wouldn't give to go back and do it differently."

Her head hurt. She placed her hand over his on her knee. "I know, Dad." Then, Angie appeared with her backpack, and it was time to leave. Max hugged them both, and he watched them go until they disappeared.

oOo

She couldn't sleep. She was exhausted, but that seemed irrelevant. It was 2:30 in the morning, and she was staring at her ceiling. Sometimes it was hard to be at home. Angie was sleeping in her own bed, but, as ridiculous as she knew it was, Brennan couldn't seem to stop herself from walking down the hall and checking to make sure she was still breathing.

She watched the little girl's chest rise and fall, watched her eyelids flutter with dreams, then she returned to her own bed. She didn't even bother crawling beneath the sheets, choosing to sit on top of the comforter instead. She tried to call on some of the meditation techniques she'd acquired to clear her mind, but she just couldn't stop all the thinking. She thought about Max, who was sorry...who had been wrong. She thought about Sweets, who believed in her; and Angela, who was just so sure. She thought about Angie, who somehow found the strength to sleep in her own bed; and she thought about Booth, who had never failed her.

It was instinctual, the way she reached over and grabbed the cell phone from the table beside her bed. She hadn't thought about what she would say, so when her groggy partner answered the phone, she simply said what she was thinking. "I can't come over tonight."

"What? Bones?"

Booth suddenly sounded very alert, so Brennan continued blurting out her thoughts. "I can't come over tonight, because I can't leave Angie alone...and you have Parker...but...but Booth, I don't want to go to your wedding." There, she'd said it.

"Okay, Bones, who's there? I'm calling the police. Do they have guns? Bones, where's Angie?"

Booth sounded panicked, and Brennan was confused. "Wait, why are you calling the police? No one's here, Booth, it's 2:30 AM!"

Now Booth was confused. "But you just said something about not coming over and going to my wedding. I..." He realized his heart was pounding and that he'd gotten dressed and grabbed his gun without even thinking about it. "God, Bones, you scared me. I thought you were speaking in some kind of code, trying to let me know that you were in trouble. I thought..."

"Code? That's ridiculous, Booth. What kind of code did you think I was using?"

"Hell if I know, Bones. You're the one talking about weddings at 2:30 in the morning!" His breathing was slowly returning to normal, and with it came the realization that she had called him...at 2:30 in the morning. This was it. His heart sank. What good could come from a phone call in the middle of the night?

"Booth? Are you still there?"

"I'm still here, Bones."

"I apologize for frightening you. I should have been more sensitive, considering recent events."

"It's okay." He didn't want to ask. He wanted to keep holding on to everything that came before he knew...but that was limbo. And limbo didn't let you stay forever. "What's going on, Bones? What was that about a wedding?"

"I don't want to go to yours."

"Well, I don't think you have anything to worry about there. Hey, are you okay? How's your head?"

She ignored him and continued to tell the truth. "I don't want to go to your wedding, and I don't want to go to your children's birthday parties, and I don't want someone to take my place."

He thought he might have an idea where this was going, and he began to feel a smidgen of hope. "No one could ever take your place. Not with me."

She closed her eyes and squeezed the receiver. "I'm scared."

Scared was good. He could deal with scared. Scared could be overcome. "Bones, do you think we could be happy together?"

And she paused, because tonight was a night for telling the truth, and sometimes the truth didn't like being told. "Yes." Her voice was a whisper. "Yes, but I don't know for how long."

Booth smiled, because he really thought he might win this one. "No one ever knows for how long. There's always a risk...but I think we're a pretty safe bet, one of the safest around. I mean, come on, this has been going on for years. We're already well past the whole chemical release stage."

Brennan crinkled her nose. "Not exactly, Booth. I still find you very sexually attractive."

Booth chuckled and felt warm all over. "The feeling is mutual, Bones. You can trust me on that one."

She laughed too, then grew serious. "We're not compatible."

"Oh, Bones, do you really believe that?" She didn't answer, and he decided that was a good thing. He wanted to wake up Parker and rush to her. He wanted to hold on and make sure she didn't have the space to decide she wanted to be alone. He wanted to, but he wouldn't. Not when she was so close. He would have a little faith. "You know what you need? A paradigm shift. Sleep on it, okay? Tomorrow, Parker and I are coming over to pick up you and Angie. We're going to go to the park, feed the ducks and make some decisions. How does that sound?"

She smiled, pretty sure her decisions had been made. "It sounds good. See you tomorrow, Booth."

"Good night, Bones."

**TBC**

**Author's Note: Only one more chapter and an epilogue left. *sniff***


	40. Breaking the Camel's Back

**Author's Note: Special thanks to Mali Bear's Buddy for catching a pretty major error in the last chapter that I had missed. You're the best!**

_Chapter 34: Breaking the Camel's Back_

When Temperance Brennan woke up on Tuesday morning, she was once again surprised by what wasn't there. Anxiety. For as long as she could remember, the moment she opened her eyes had always been accompanied by the reminder that this might be the day that everything fell apart. She was unprotected in those first moments of waking, not having had time to put in place her carefully controlled defenses. But today was different. She didn't need to protect herself today.

There exists a principle in science known as the threshold effect. It is used to help explain the behavior of complex systems. You see, sometimes, big changes make no impact. For instance, let's say you're almost killed, or, maybe that your long-time partner and friend decides he wants to take a gamble and change the most important relationship of your life. These things happen, and they're huge, but they don't really produce the expected change in the behavior of the complex system. On the other hand, sometimes tiny little things produce a huge effect. Maybe you buy a Christmas tree and prove to someone that love exists. Maybe you tell a half-truth and save a life. Maybe you go with your friend to a government office because "that's what we do." Maybe you hold her daughter on your lap and find the hidden objects. And maybe that's all it takes, that tiny little thing, to convince the complex system that it's time to try a different way. That's the threshold effect. Little thing builds upon little thing until such a time that you unknowingly, and completely unexpectedly, cross the critical threshold. And you change everything.

Which was why Brennan was reaching for the phone to call Cam and let her know that she needed to take one more day off, assuming Booth was doing the same. Once you crossed a critical threshold, you couldn't go back, not with a complex system. There was no way to retrace your steps, as the path had been permanently altered. She smiled as she selected her clothes for the day, finding comfort in the knowledge that she could never be exactly who she had been before...and that she could explain it all with science.

oOo

Whatever Brennan lacked in anxiety, Booth more than made up for. He fell asleep happy, confident. He woke up so nervous that he actually puked. Nice. In one of those moves you only make in the middle of the night, he'd told Bones that he'd be picking her up to feed the ducks...on a Tuesday. Temperance freaking Brennan, and he'd expected her to skip work to play in the park. He'd lost his mind.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to call her and hear that she had no intention of following through with their plans. He called into work, and he woke up his son, who was excited about a day in the park with his dad. So at least he'd have that, even if Bones had changed her mind.

When they got to her apartment, Booth knocked on her door, trying to prepare himself for the possibility that she wouldn't be there. For the possibility that what happened in the middle of the night was irrelevant in the light of day.

But she answered the door. She was there, and she was smiling, and he knew. He'd gambled and won. She didn't have to say anything; her paradigm had shifted. He knew, and it felt so good that it hurt.

They stood at the door staring at each other, and it felt like time had stopped. But they weren't alone, and suddenly Parker was running past him, claiming he needed to use the bathroom. Angie was entering the living room, holding up one shoe, hoping her mother could find its match. Brennan held up a finger to let him know she'd be right back, and she left to find the other purple flip flop.

Booth and Angie stood in the living room together, waiting. Angie glanced around to make sure they were alone, then she looked up at him and said, "Booth."

Her voice was a whisper. In fact, he couldn't be sure if she'd actually spoken, or only mouthed the word. He crouched down to see what she had to say.

She stepped closer so that she was right by his ear. "They're sending me a new birth certificate. That's a piece of paper. Mama said that it made me hers. She said it would make my last name Brennan."

Booth shared the little girl's secret smile. "That's great news, Shadow."

She nodded importantly, then whispered again, "I'm going to stay forever."

Booth felt tears well-up, and he pulled his little friend into a big hug. "I know, baby. I'm so, so glad."

He released her, and she gave him a conspiratorial look. "Booth," she whispered again, crooking her finger for him to come closer. "I'm going to stay forever, and I think you should stay too."

This time, the tears fell. "Oh Shadow, that's the plan."

oOo

They had only been at the park a few minutes when Parker Booth declared that he and Angie were way too old to feed the ducks. He grabbed the soccer ball and her hand, and he pulled her away from the adults and toward the field. They started the game, and he called over to her.

"Shadow, my mom says that my dad will probably marry your mom one day. I think she's right."

Angie smiled, thinking that she liked Parker's mom.

"So I think that when we go back to school next year, we should probably go ahead and tell everyone that I'm your big brother."

Angie's smile widened, and she nodded enthusiastically. She would be Temperance Brennan's daughter and Parker Booth's sister. Not bad.

"But do you think maybe that you might start talking some? I think it could make things better for you."

She kicked the ball hard and scored. Talking at school. She would consider it.

Parker eyed her appreciatively as she scored. "But it's okay if you don't want to talk, Shadow. I can talk for you sometimes if you need me to." No one would mess with his little sister.

oOo

Booth and Brennan sat on a bench and watched from across the pond as their children played. They knew there was still a lot to say, but once again they found themselves unsure of where to start.

Quite frankly, Brennan would have liked to skip the talking and get right to the kissing. She'd been waiting a long time.

And honestly, Booth wouldn't have objected to that at all. If she thought she'd been waiting a long time, she had no idea how long he'd found the last six years.

But you have to respect a wait like that. If you're going to put an end to it, you have to do it right.

Brennan rolled her eyes, smiled, and scooted closer to Booth on the bench. She confidently took his hand in hers, and for the second time in two days, he was pretty sure his heart stopped.

Her tone was playful as she said, "I was almost killed by the Deputy Director of the FBI."

"God, Bones, I know."

She nodded. "So I think the FBI owes me one."

Booth smirked and squeezed her hand. "Oh yeah?"

"That's right," she said. "So they can't split us up. They can't say we can't work together. They owe me."

Do you have any idea how it feels? Getting something you've wanted for longer than you can remember? Something you thought you might never be able to have? There are no words...at least none Booth could find. When his voice was strong enough, he asked, "So you've decided, then? We're going to do this? We're finally, really going to do this?"

She studied him. "Come on, Booth, haven't we already been doing this? Haven't we been doing this all along?"

He put his arm around her and exhaled six years worth of tension and longing. "Where you go, I will go."

She looked up at him curiously.

"From the Book of Ruth."

"The Bible? Booth, are you seriously quoting to me from the Bible right now?"

"It's a good story, Bones. Relevant. Besides, it has a bit of a cultural anthropology bent to it."

She looked skeptical.

"No, just hear me out. Okay, there were these two women- Ruth and Naomi. Ruth was Naomi's daughter-in-law...unless it was the other way around. I don't know, but it won't matter to you anyway, so let's say Ruth was the daughter-in-law. So anyway, it starts out as this really unhappy story. Naomi's sons, including Ruth's husband, are killed. They've both lost everything, and it's complicated because Ruth is a foreigner. She doesn't belong with Naomi. They're not the same. I'm sure you understand how it was in those days."

She nodded, becoming intrigued by the story despite herself.

"Okay, so Naomi sends all of her daughter-in-laws away. She tells them to go back to their homelands and their families, and they all go...except Ruth. She refuses to leave Naomi. She knows that they are so different and that they have no real reason to be with each other...there's no obligation anymore. But still, she doesn't want to leave. She loves her mother-in-law, and she's decided she's going to stay. Naomi keeps telling her that she should go back, be with her own people, but Ruth keeps refusing. She tells Naomi, 'Where you go, I will go. Your people will be my people.' That's what she says, even though it doesn't make sense. And so they stay together, always...and it means more than if there had been a reason for them to stay together. Their bond is more powerful because they both know that they could have made other choices, and maybe those choices would have been easier. It keeps them strong, knowing that, despite all the reasons not to, they chose each other."

She decided he was right- it was a good story. "Your people will be my people."

"Exactly, Bones. Your people have already become my people. From the moment we met, I knew I'd go where you went. You're right. We've been doing this all along."

And they were both relieved, because it was just that simple.

Of course...

"I can think of a few things we haven't been doing all along, Booth."

He laughed, and it felt so good to laugh with her. "I think we could definitely get right on that tonight.

She leaned forward to whisper against his lips, "I think I'd like that very much."

Then there was nothing left to say. Their lips met, and there was nothing left between them. Their eyes were closed, and their children were playing, and their kiss deepened. It was different than all the other times. Better. They no longer worried about what would come after; they no longer concerned themselves with consequences. They had made their choice. Whatever came after, they would face together.

**Fin**

**Author's Note: There's still an epilogue...and I refuse to get all sentimental until then.**


	41. The Woman in it for the Long Haul

_Epilogue: The Woman in it for the Long Haul_

It was one of those days in late August when you know that summer's coming to an end, but it's just too hot for it to really feel true. The days were subtly starting to get shorter, and everywhere you turned, you were being reminded of a back-to-school sale at some store or another. It was the time of year when summer lost its magic, when you were ready to trade in swimming pools, lightening bugs and sandals for the coziness of bulky sweaters, hot cider and pumpkin patches. It was not the time of year to be outside. It was the time of year to retreat back into your houses, to allow the miracle of central air conditioning to see you through until Fall. Everybody knew it.

Everybody, it seemed, except for the unlikely group of people huddled around a park picnic table piled high with gifts and melting ice cream cake. Nothing could have kept them inside on this day. No, this was the day that, against all odds, Angie "Shadow" Brennan turned seven-years-old. And there wasn't a single member of her cobbled-together family that was going to miss it.

oOo

She had never had a birthday party before. A few weeks ago, her mama had asked what kind of party she wanted, and she didn't even know how to answer. At first she was afraid that her mother would think she was a very strange girl, not knowing how to answer such an easy question, but then her mama said that she wouldn't know how to answer that question either. But that it was okay. Because they had Angela.

Angela said they should have a fairy party, and Angie thought that was a good idea. That was why she had her face painted with pretty sparkles...Angela said that fairies sparkled. Her mama said that fairies didn't exist, but that they wouldn't tell Angela. They didn't want to ruin it for her. Angie was glad they hadn't, because she decided that she liked sparkling. She also liked wearing her pretty pink wings, and she wondered if she might be able to wear them on the first day of school. Also, her hair was the best it had ever been, because Auntie Cam's Michelle had come over and added pink and silver ribbons to her braids. Mama said that she looked like a very authentic fairy. Angie didn't tell her that she didn't think you could look like an authentic version of something that didn't exist. Her mama was taking a lot of pictures, and Angie didn't want to ruin it for her.

After they had done all of the birthday party things that Angie hadn't known about at all- songs, presents, candles- she pulled on the shiny pink knee pads her Parker had given her and took off with him to play soccer. A few minutes later, she snuck back over to the table to grab the present from her Booth. It was a magic wand, just like the ones they had in _Harry Potter_. A soccer-playing fairy, she decided, needed a wand. She ran back toward Parker, but when she was half-way there, she turned and looked back at all of the people who came to her very first birthday party.

There were so many of them, and she hadn't even known them last year. She didn't like to think about last year. So instead she thought about Hodgins, who had told her that she didn't have to wear the bad man's necklace. And Angela, who laughed all the time and who made everything a party...who painted butterflies onto walls and sparkles onto seven-year-olds. She laughed at Sweets, who was making funny faces. He had told her about the Ewoks, and she thought she would like to have one as a pet. She thought about Auntie Cam, who was so pretty and so nice; and Michelle, who had spent five hours making her braids look pink and silver. She smiled at Miss Caroline, who was always watching, even though she pretended not to; and she waved at her grandpa, who told her how much he loved her, and who always called her 'princess.' She looked at her Booth, with his arm around her mama and his plan to stay forever. He spent the night at their house sometimes, and Angie was glad. Sometimes it was still scary to be in that house, and Angie was happy her mama wasn't always sleeping alone.

Her mama. When she was blowing out her candles, Angela said that she should make a wish. But she didn't. She'd always wished for a nice mama, who loved her and fed her and read her stories. Who would explain to her why you saw the sun in the morning and the moon at night and how to go the fastest way to the swings. A mama who didn't yell, or hit, or burn. Who always woke up in time to take her to school. Who always kissed her goodnight before bed. She had gotten that wish, so Angie decided that she wouldn't make any more. She didn't want to be greedy with her wishes.

"Shadow, come on!"

And she turned and ran to her Parker, who was always waiting. She wasn't going to talk today. She didn't know words that were good enough.

oOo

It was dark by the time they returned to Brennan's apartment. The kids were exhausted from too much sugar and too much soccer, and they had both fallen asleep in the car. Brennan carried Angie, fairy wings and all, to her room, as Booth zombie-walked Parker to the bed they had set up for him in Brennan's office.

They met back up in her bedroom, and Booth watched her slip on her little silk nightgown before backing her up against the armoire to kiss her. He found that he never got tired of kissing her, never stopped feeling the thrill that he actually could. She leaned her head back and sighed as he trailed his lips softly down her neck.

"You know," he whispered, "it's creepy that you still live here."

She moaned, and then asked in the breathy tone he'd come to love, "Why?"

He scoffed, but he didn't stop kissing her, never stopped touching her. "Because you were nearly murdered by a serial killer here. I had to clean up your blood."

"Mmmm...," she was distracted by his hands, "...was just a head wound."

He returned his kisses to her lips. "Don't you think it traumatizes Angie?"

"No," she said, taking her turn to place her lips gently on his neck, "Angie seems to be handling it quite well."

He groaned as her nails scraped across his back. "Well, it traumatizes me."

Brennan took his hand and walked backward toward the bed, pulling him down with her. "Now that you mention it," she said, taking his head in her hands, "it might be necessary to seek out alternate living arrangements."

"Oh yeah," he rolled his hips against hers, "and why is that?"

"Neither of our apartments has enough bedrooms for both Angie and Parker to have one. I would be willing to give up my office, but given your stated opinion that my home is now 'creepy,' I think we should probably look for another place to live once we're married."

And she still knew how to stop his heart. All of Booth's movements stilled, and pulled up on his elbows to look down at her. "Once we're married?"

She smiled up at him a bit shyly. "Why, don't you want to get married?"

Booth stood up and raked his hand through his hair before turning to glare at her. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with the love of my life?"

She sat up on the bed and pulled her knees to her chest, rolling her eyes at him.

He came to sit beside her, pulling her close. "Seriously, Bones, what's all this about? You've always been pretty clearly anti-marriage."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "Not true Booth. I just thought that you shouldn't get married without a reason."

"And now you've found a reason?"

"Marriage is simply a contract, a piece of paper...but so is a birth certificate, and I've seen how much that has mattered to Angie. And, well, there's Angie. I can't really forget what happened with Hacker, and you're her family, and if anything were to ever happen to me, I don't want there to be any question that she belongs with you. Marriage would certainly help make that true."

"So this is about Angie?" His tone was gentle.

And hers was honest. "Yes, for the most part that is true. I'm still me, Booth. I'm never going to turn into a romantic who believes that a white dress and a ceremony changes everything. I love you," she was firm, "and I'm committed to you...to us. A piece of paper doesn't make that any more or less true."

He placed a kiss on the top of her head. "But it makes it more legal."

"Exactly." She looked at him and bit her lip, worried that she was saying all the wrong things.

Then he'd grinned. He still knew who she was. "I don't know, Bones," he gave an exaggerated sigh, "it sounds to me like you're trying to rob me of my chance to buy a ring and plan a proposal."

She laughed and rolled on top of him, pinning him beneath her. "Far be it from me to deprive you of such an experience. Go ahead and do what you need to do."

"Oh, I will Bones," he pulled her down roughly to kiss him, "just when you least expect it." He didn't think it necessary to inform her that he'd bought a ring the weekend after they'd gone to feed the ducks.

oOo

Later, they lay on their sides, facing each other, holding hands.

"Bones," he whispered, "when we get married, I'd like to adopt Angie too."

She had never loved him more than she did right then, in that moment. "I would love that. I mean, we'll ask her, but I suspect she would love that too. You _are_ her favorite."

"Well, Shadow knows a good man when she sees one."

"Booth," she whispered, "when we get married, where do you think we should live?"

"Somewhere in the city. We don't want to become one of those couples who suddenly chuck it all in for a minivan and life in the suburbs. Maybe we could find a townhouse."

She nodded. "No, I'm definitely not giving up my car...or my last name."

"I'd never expect you to." He ran his hand across her cheek. "I'll want to take the kids to Mass from time to time. At least on Easter."

"Fine," she agreed, "but you can't expect me to go with you. The Christian belief in the resurrection is ridiculous."

He chuckled. "No problem, Bones. Someone has to stay home to hide the eggs."

**THE END**

**Final Author's Note: So, I'm sitting here laughing at myself, because I'm tempted to cry...over finishing a story. I've always been just the slightest bit pathetic. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this story, especially those of you who have reviewed. I have truly enjoyed the opportunity to connect with you...and I'll miss you. Actually, one of you coerced me into joining LiveJournal, and even though I still haven't figured out exactly what I'm supposed to be doing there, feel free to add me as a friend if you're a member and would like to stay in touch. I'm Jennasq there. Also, I'm going to go back through my reviewers and check out y'all's stories. Writing this one didn't leave me as much time this summer as I would have liked to be a reader. And...I'm going to get to work on another one. It may be a while before I post it, but I hope you'll check it out. Let's see, what else...oh, I've kinda fallen in love with Angie. I'm not one for sequels, but I left some possibilities open in this one, and it is very likely that I will revisit this story at some point in the future. I'll send an alert out if I do. It is now time to end the world's longest author's note. Thanks again, and enjoy premier night!**


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